


indusium

by 3minswriting



Series: inflorescence [1]
Category: Multi-Fandom, NU'EST, VIXX, Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, aus and canon and whatever my brain decides to do lel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: a collection of fic req fills & one shots.1. Drive | JBaek2. Love Song | JBaek3. a lesson in perfection | ChaBin4. Middle of the Night | BaekMin; JBaek5. Puppy Love | OngNiel6. Guess Who | OngNiel7. Breathe in, Breathe out (let go) | (one-sided) JBaek; MinBaek8. Come Prima | JBaek; (one-sided) MinBaek9. i'ma shine like gloss | RenBaek (m/nsfw)10. Take a sip | BaekMin11. that's what I like | everyone/Baekho; JBaek (nsfw)12. when i see your face, unforgettable | MinBaek13. wanderlust (all that glitters) | BaekMin14. lovely day | everyone/Baekho15. leading light | BaekMin16. you never even noticed i died, right? | JBaek17. better together | JBaek18. Play | MinHwan19. a hundred years more (I'll love you) | BaekMin20. As if it's the last | (J)BaekMin
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Lee Hongbin, Choi Minki | Ren/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Hwang Minhyun/Kim Jaehwan, Kang Daniel/Ong Seongwu, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Aaron Kwak | Aron, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Everyone, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Series: inflorescence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993198
Comments: 122
Kudos: 134





	1. Drive | JBaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> driving is hard man

Despite all of the _'R.I.P Dongho'_ texts their group chat was filled with after he'd posted a photo of their leader sitting behind the wheel of his new car, Dongho wasn't worried at all.  
“You're doing really good.” He encouraged, leaning back in the passenger's seat while holding his phone up. The smudged lens was consumed with only the faint rays of afternoon sun glancing off tanned cheekbones and sharp eyes dedicated to the road ahead.

“Psh.” Jonghyun's eyes crinkled as he fought back a nervous smile. “Hey, what are you doing?”  
“Filming~” Dongho replied.  
“What- why? Turn it off,” Jonghyun whined between clenched teeth, “you're going to make me crash.”

In 1080p FHD (60fps), Dongho's phone faithfully captured the tightening of that jaw, the set of those slim shoulders, the breathless chuckle that betrayed just how worried Jonghyun was.

What it failed to capture in full-focus was what happened next, except for the crystal clear sound of Dongho's voice

“Nah, I trust you.” Followed by the cheeky smack of lips against Jonghyun's cheek—

—and then the camera righted itself again, absorbing the same profile, only now the afternoon sun was casting a crimson glow on those cheekbones, and that smile was flustered.

“Jonghyun-ah.” Dongho's voice was muffled by his finger accidentally covering the microphone but the image was crisp, perfect. It's how he wanted to remember this exact moment forever. “Look at me for a sec.”

“I'm driving, I can't look.”

“Then say something nice to me for our anniversary trip.” Dongho pressed, nudging the side of Jonghyun's thigh jokingly with his knee.

”'Something nice.'” Jonghyun replied, and the camera shook as Dongho slapped his arm, laughing.

“Cheapskate!”

The car slowed as they came to a red light. Jonghyun looked dead straight into the camera, eyes soft. “How about you turn that off, and I'll say something, Dongho.”

-

_0.48s video sent. (read.)_

Dongho ignored the rest of the group chat texts demanding for the rest of the video. The others could spam and threaten all they wanted, Dongho wasn't worried.

As long as Jonghyun had the wheel and they were together, Dongho never worried at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty requester xoxo. sry the contents of the video are classified
> 
> ✦[fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


	2. Love Song | JBaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i def dont miss hs lol

He was not looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow was the maths final and Dongho knew he was going to bomb it.

Tomorrow fucking sucked.

He was definitely going to fail.

Dongho never really had much direction in life during his school years. He'd never really paid a lot of attention in class outside of kendo training but he'd managed to achieve average marks despite most of his teacher's misgivings. Not the kind of marks that would get him accepted into a top university, but that didn't bother him since he wasn't expecting to attend one – or any – anyway. He turned in his application form blank – the only person in his year to do so.

Dongho in fact, had no idea what he wanted to do. He knew he had to work and earn a living. Problem was nothing particularly appealed to him.

“Are those notes for tomorrow's exam?” Jonghyun asked, dropping into the empty seat next to him and peering at the too-neat handwriting and perfectly straight highlighter striping the pages. He raised an eyebrow and Dongho grinned sheepishly.

“Minhyun's.” He admitted.

“Oh.” Jonghyun snorted. “..guess you weren't joking about not going to university then.”

“Hey, Minhyun's a little smart.” Dongho felt it was his duty to defend his best friend from the slander thrown by his other best friend. Jonghyun and Minhyun had never really gotten along, which Dongho thought was a bit weird, but with them all graduating and likely going their separate ways at the end of this year, he had hoped that they'd be able to set aside whatever petty feud they had.

“Mm.” Jonghyun grunted, flipping open his textbook, chin propped on the heel of his palm as he began to read.

The library wasn't as quiet at it should have been at this time of day and Dongho found himself struggling to tune out the other students around him. Taking out his headphones, his attention was more focussed on the music playing through his headphones than on Minhyun's neat handwriting.

A gentle tap to his knee made him look up at Jonghyun.

“Can I listen?”

“Oh, sure.” Dongho pulled an earbud free and offered it to Jonghyun's waiting palm.

“Thanks.” Jonghyun dropped his gaze back to his work once he'd settled the earbud, scribbling notes furiously and filling the pages of his exercise book with information Dongho wished he could himself retain, but he just wasn't smart like that, not like his best friend.

Sighing, Dongho tried to get back to studying too, follow Jonghyun's example. But really, when was he going to use any of this? Tangents and triangles and imaginary numbers and algebra; and none of it made any sense, even with Minhyun's notes (the notes hadn't come cheap either, he had to treat him to lunch tomorrow ' _you can afford it, Dongho-yah, you've got a job_ ' Minhyun had teased, which, true, and as much as he grumbled that his wages weren't to be wasted on filling Minhyun's big mouth, he agreed since half the time whatever his best friend ordered he'd feed to Dongho anyway.)

“You good?” Jonghyun asked, eyes still on his book and wrist flying across the page.

“Huh? Yeah.” Dongho ran a hand through his fringe. “Just..none of this shit makes any sense.”

“That's what you get for borrowing Minhyun's notes.” Jonghyun quipped, and Dongho couldn't help but laugh.

“Nah, I'm just dumb.”

“You're not.” Jonghyun's voice was calm, so sure, like he really believed it. Dongho didn't agree, but he'd be lying if that quiet confidence his best friend had didn't make him want to try and prove Jonghyun right.

“Whatever.” But he dropped his head down and refocussed on the study notes.

It wasn't the missed calls on his phone or the quietening of the ambient sound around him that alerted Dongho to the fact it was getting late – it was the sharp, triumphant jab of Jonghyun's pen on his page that made him snap out of his own world and look up.

Jonghyun stretched back and dropped the pen, stretching his arms above his head.

“Done?”

“Yeah.” Jonghyun stiffly stood up and began packing his things up. “You finishing soon?”

“Maybe..I kinda want to finish this.” Dongho chewed on his bottom lip, frowning.

“Alright, I'm gonna head.” Shouldering his backpack, Jonghyun returned the other half of Dongho's headphones.

“Oh..ok.” Dongho tried to keep the disappointment out of his tone. Without Jonghyun beside him to keep him focussed, he wasn't sure how much more he could get done. His best friend's presence was calming, but when Jonghyun smiled at him, Dongho's heart did, admittedly, start racing.

And his palms did start sweating.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Don't stay too late.” Jonghyun petted his shoulder as he began to walk away.

“See you.” Dongho watched Jonghyun's retreating back until he was gone behind the pillars of bookcases, out of sight.

When he turned back to his work, he noticed Jonghyun had left his exercise book full of all his study notes. “Shit!” Dongho grabbed it and stood up, ready to race after him until he noticed a bright post-it on the cover:

__

'After that lunch tomorrow, you're having dinner with me. My treat. Study well, Dongho-ah.'

There was no one else in the library any more, and that was lucky because if they were, they might have been blinded by the brightness of Dongho's grin as he hugged the exercise book against his chest, pressing it against his fluttering heart.

He didn't know if he'd do well on the test, or what his future was going to bring, but Dongho knew one thing for sure: with Jonghyun looking out for him, no matter what he did, he'd succeed.

Tomorrow was looking better already.

After all, he was going to have lunch with one of his best friends tomorrow.

And a date with the other.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you requester, hope you enjoyed the fluff..


	3. a lesson in perfection | ChaBin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rhythm is a dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first attempt at a chabean...eep

Practice. Practice. Practice.

That's what Hongbin told himself, what he swore behind gritted teeth when the sweat was dripping off him and yet he still couldn't master the move. It's been three hours and already Sanghyuk and Jaehwan had left to grab an easy dinner, Taekwoon and Wonsik were shoulder-to-shoulder near the exit, scrolling through something on Wonsik's phone (judging from the stifled smile on their hyung's face, Hongbin thought it must be more videos of Ondongie, which really, they live together goddamn you'd think Taekwoon would be sick of seeing the bulldog and yet..well Hongbin had already long given up trying to understand the pair), their bags on their shoulders as they wanted towards the door.

And Hakyeon..

Hakyeon was still here.

He had the choreography down perfectly, right down to the beautifully timed rise and fall of his breaths as his arms elongate in silken lines, delicate as blossoms scattered to the wind. Hakyeon is a natural. As far as Hongbin was concerned, Hakyeon practiced when he didn't need to, stayed back when it wasn't necessary, but the worst part was—

“Need a hand?” Hakyeon asked.

Quickly Hongbin looked away, sniffing and wiping his forehead free of sweat with the back of his sleeve. He adjusted his headphones, scrolling back in the song to restart from where he'd left off and ignoring the offer like he always did.

And like he always did, Hakyeon came over. Hongbin bristled, ready to push him away and remind him that he didn't ask for help, he just wanted some peace to practice and it was easier – better, in fact – when he could do it alone. Normally, it wouldn't stop Hakyeon from butting in anyway and foisting his help (it was easier when Hakyeon did – better, in fact – but Hongbin would never admit it).

Something had stopped Hakyeon this time, though, because when Hongbin opened his mouth to snap at him, the other had already stopped two metres away and crossed his arms against his chest.

  
They stared at each other in silence. Hongbin wasn't going to lose this mini battle, eyes challenging Hakyeon to speak first.

With a single brow cocked just like the sensual confidence of his jutting hip, Hakyeon tapped his foot on the floor. “Well? Aren't you going to keep practicing?”

Even though Hakyeon had broken the silence, somehow Hongbin felt like he'd lost this round.

“Yeah.” He muttered, turning around and forcing himself to focus.

It wasn't easy when each time he looked at the wall-to-wall mirror he'd see Hakyeon's eyes on him, scrutinising his every move, every gesture, his foot tapping to the rhythm but his usually warm, expressive face reserved and unreadable. When they'd first met, Hongbin had made the mistake of thinking Hakyeon was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. With the way their sunny leader was quick to speak his mind and shower others in affection, it made sense. But it didn't take long for Hongbin to figure out that he'd been wrong – Hakyeon was an truly an enigma; hot, cold, and every delightful and agonising temperature in between.

He wanted to know what was running through his mind as he watched placid Hakyeon's reflection in the mirror. Each mistake Hongbin knew he made, his eyes instinctively flew to his leader, waiting for it. The moment he barged in and told him what to do and how to do it better.

After the seventh mistake Hongbin knew he'd made, he'd had enough.

“What! What is it?”

“I didn't say anything.” Hakyeon held up his hands in surrender.

“You keep..” Hongbin struggled to find the words, he was exhausted. “..just say it! I know it's wrong it's meant to be left on 5 and right on 6,7, and 8, ok?”

“I was just watching.” Hakyeon said evenly. “That's all.”

“Yeah, watching me look like an idiot.” Hongbin muttered under his breath, turning around. Hakyeon was flawless when he danced, he didn't know what it was like to struggle to get the counts right when music simply flowed through him, he couldn't understand when even just the smallest of his smiles had Hongbin and every starlight's heart rocketing in their chests—

“No,” Hakyeon's voice was suddenly louder – soft, but so much closer. “I just...enjoy seeing you practice.”

A bolt struck Hongbin's nerves. His mouth moved on its own accord, “Why, so you can nag me more?”

Hakyeon didn't react to the acidic tone thrown his way, neatly sidestepping it with a smile. “I don't need to stay back to do that.”

Hongbin rolled his eyes. “Then why are you still here? Go home.”

“Nope. Staying right here.” Haykeon sat on the floor; even without the music, Hongbin couldn't help but be disgustedly entranced by how such a simple action could look so graceful. It wasn't fair.

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

He thought (hoped) Hakyeon would get bored of observing him and go home. The staff were gone. The cameras packed away. It was late. Hongbin's muscles were aching and yet he didn't want to give up. He wanted to get this done, be able to turn up to practice tomorrow and perfectly synchronise with the stunning Hakyeon (and the others too, he guessed) and just be good enough.

Instead Hakyeon stayed. He always stayed right to the end – out of misplaced duty of being a leader, Hongbin wondered – even when he had a schedule the next day. Even if it was late. Even if he could be looking at his phone or doing literally anything else, Hakyeon stayed with him.

So when Hongbin made it through the whole song and his muscles felt like they were going to drip off his bones and puddle with his sweat on the wooden floor, but by god he'd done it

he'd nailed it, start to finish

he had a perfect run

and the only muscles that seemed to work were the ones in his face as he threw his head back and grinned at the ceiling, letting out a joyous, exhausted, satisfied whoop “did you see that hyung, I did it I got it!”—

—he had no idea that Hakyeon was staring at him in awe. Like he always did after Hongbin finished a routine, after that stunning smile slipped through his insecurity and frustration and shone wild and free as the breaking dawn.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

Hakyeon was a natural, but he knew practice makes perfect.

And in Hakyeon's eyes, there was no one more perfect than Hongbin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ily requester ;; ily hongbin come back to us when you're ready


	4. Middle of the Night | BaekMin; JBaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings are complicated, especially when they're not returned.

There’s always something in Dongho’s expression, Jonghyun thinks, some lingering, special thing that glistens and lingers whenever Minhyun is in the same room as him. The way Dongho looks at his best friend borders on the affection that reminds Jonghyun of the time he was walking home with Mingi and the youngest had stopped to coo over the stray cats wandering aimlessly over cracked concrete of a half-full carpark. ‘They’re so cute, look at them! Here kitty kitty~’ Sweet coaxing from Mingi had attracted some feline glances; a few were bold enough to approach just out of reach to force Mingi to stretch to glance their fur with his fingertips only, and had the gall to preen under the attention as if he should be grateful, and not them. Mingi had been delighted, unbothered, full of chuckles. Jonghyun had laughed too but in echo of Mingi’s amusement, not of the situation. Who were these strays, he’d thought, to act so entitled to another’s attention?

He thinks this again, almost every day he comes to visit Dongho and Minhyun at their shared apartment. Tonight Minhyun swans around in his date outfit (ready two hours early, so organised, Jonghyun thinks wryly, or is it bitterness; he’s not even sure anymore), sitting half on Dongho’s lap as they take a few selcas to post on Minhyun’s instagram and bicker on angles, lighting, and poses. While Dongho whines on the last photo being the worst of the lot – ‘you can’t even see my face behind that big head of yours!’ ¬‘that’s what makes it so good, Dongho-ya-’ ‘don’t you dare post-‘ ‘what? You mean this? Oops!’ – and Minhyun scampers off his lap and keeps his phone out of reach, Jonghyun sits at the tiny dining table across from them nursing a beer. He observes the chase, of Dongho running around the small lounge room after Minhyun’s retreating back, hears their laughter as it disappears behind a wall and the thud of victory of two bodies slamming against cheap floorboards with more playful arguing.

That same look that lights up Dongho’s face disappears the moment Minhyun’s kissing his cheek and announces there’s no need to wait up tonight before closing the front door behind him. Jonghyun’s given up on trying to restore it. Now he just sips on his drink and sits next to Dongho on the couch, pretending to stare at the tv while some pointless drama plays out on the flashing screen despite there being enough drama right here, has been for years even if the two idiots never talk about it. Jonghyun knows there’s three idiots in total: Dongho for loving someone out of reach, Minhyun for acting oblivious to it, and himself – the fool on the couch with his arm around broad shoulders hugging Dongho close, waiting for the moment when those amber eyes finally look up at him with a light that eclipses the sun, that eclipses a love that never belonged to him, not matter how much he wishes it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you requester, soz it was sad tho ;;


	5. Puppy Love | OngNiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats? dogs? they're all cute gdi

He's always insisted that his personality was more like a dog than a cat. “But hyung,” Daehwi had pointed out, with Woojin and Jihoon nodding beside him, “You literally have 4 cats.” Daniel had laughed along with them, not sure how to explain what was really behind his decision. “Yeah, I guess.”

They might not have seen it (or maybe they did, who could know, Daniel had never been particularly good at hiding his feelings unless it was behind a smile, and most of the time that smile became his real feelings when he wore it long enough) but Daniel really did act like a puppy.

One who preferred the company of cats.

Daniel was loyal, excited for every moment they spent together. He lit up the moment the owner of his heart entered the room, gravitating towards them immediately to give as much affection as he was allowed to in front of the cameras

and even more when the nosey lenses were gone and it was just the two of them, up all night, talking when words were needed and touching when words weren't.

“I'm tired.” Seongwu whined after the song stopped playing. The practice room was full of sunlight, so different from the basements they were used to as trainees in small companies.  
“It's been one song hyung, and you were just standing there how can you be tired?” Jinyoung laughed.  
“I'm gonna lie down here, don't wait for me- please- go on without me!” Seongwu flounced with a dramatic faint into one of the sunbeams, half-smiling when he could hear the others laughing.  
“Ok.” Jihoon deadpanned.  
“Wait no you're meant to follow!” Seongwu fake-complained, remaining in his spot. The hard floor wasn't comfortable but it beat moving.  
“We have to practice, the day's just started.” Jisung was the voice of reason, and Sungwoon was already cueing up the music for them again without him needing to ask.

Over the music, a bemused voice joined him. “You can't sleep all day.”  
Seongwu rolled over, inviting Daniel into the sunbeam with him, humming when the familiar warmth cuddled against his back.  
“Then maybe stop keeping me up all night.” Seongwu muttered.  
Daniel let out a little laugh, hugging him tigher. “You're lazier than Ori.”  
“But you love me.” Seongwu countered.  
“Mmm.”

He knew he shouldn't have favourites among his cats, but when Seongwu turned in his arms to kiss his nose while no one was looking, Daniel couldn't help but accept the truth – deep down, he was a cat person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks requester xo something fluff for you~


	6. Guess Who | OngNiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stream 2U & Gravity pls

He had been settling down for another episode of Dr Stranger when it happened.

A subtle thing, so light, almost missable.

A tap.

Perhaps he'd even missed it the first time; Daniel wouldn't be surprised were it the case, it had been so soft, almost tentative.

Just the kind of thing he wouldn't expect from Ong Seongwu. A man who was the life of the party, who burst through the door with a big smile and cheeky laughter—

—not the man who smiled sheepishly at his door at half past midnight, hand raised in a shy wave after tapping at the front door so quietly Daniel thought maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him (or was it his heart, because why would Seongwu come here, really, and this late, when he had somewhere(one) else to be).

“Can I come in?”

No. Daniel knows it's the only correct response to give him. No, you walked all over my heart, I'm not about to let you walk through this door.

“Sure.” He stepped aside, cursing himself as Seongwu strode past, looking around the apartment with curious eyes.

“Thanks. Wow, you finally painted in here.”

“Yeah. Jisung-hyung picked the colour.”

It had been therapeutic after the first two months. Jisung and Sungwoon had insisted that if he wasn't going to farewell the place itself and continue living here, then it was best to change the scenery, make it fresh (make him forget, except he couldn't, there was always something that made him remember – a song, a word, a glint of light that reminded Daniel of moments best left in the past when they had no future).

“Looks nice.” Seongwu commented, wandering steps circling the furniture before taking a seat on the couch without invitation.

Daniel tried not to notice it was in his old spot, the one right next to the arm so he could lean on it, stretch his legs out on Daniel's lap while they watched TV and chat about their days.

“Can I get you some water?” Daniel hovered at the middling space between the front door and the couch, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Please.” Seongwu rolled his head back until it rested against the couch cushions, smiling.

Daniel tried not to stare. He didn't want to – he didn't mean to, but he was staring until Seongwu's focus turned to the TV screen and set him free of his paralysis long enough to make it to the kitchen.

The running water was soothing, cold when Daniel splashed it to his cheeks and rubbed his eyes, as if washing free the thoughts and tears that belonged down in the drain of regret. Why did he let him in? Why was he even here? And what-, Daniel shook his head at himself, staring at the innocent glass of water now in his hands, -the hell was he doing, treating Seongwu like a welcome guest in his home at this late hour?

He supposed he was about to find his answer to all those questions.

“Thanks Niel.” Seongwu reached up with both hands to accept the glass when it was offered, sipping at it immediately.

Daniel sat down in his usual spot. Maybe it was childish to think the act was defiant, but he wasn't about to let Seongwu's presence overcome his right to be comfortable in his own (their) home.

“What are you watching?”

” 'Dr Stranger'. It's pretty good. I'm only up to episode five.” Daniel replied, eyes flickering between the screen and the profile of the man sitting beside him.

“Only five? Impressive.” Seongwu chuckled. “I thought you'd binge watch the whole thing over a weekend.” 'Like we used to' dangled at the end of the sentence.

Neither of them made to grab at it. Instead, as Seongwu made himself comfortable and placed his cup on the table and pressed play on the controller while he was close enough, Daniel sat still.

Why are you here, why are you doing this, what do you want, why, why, why why did you do this to me? All the questions that circled in Daniel's head remained unasked. If he asked, Seongwu would leave.

Just like he did last time when Daniel had demanded answers. Answers he deserved, but never received.

Instead, they sat side by side, watching as onscreen, Jongsuk is seeking to solve the mystery of why his lover doesn't remember him. Seongwu cracked some jokes, Daniel laughed, and one episode became two, two became four, until Saturday morning came and Daniel woke up sprawled on the otherwise empty couch with the foul taste of stale chips and too much sugar lingering in his mouth.

The apartment was empty. The TV screen had darkened, 'Still Watching?' waiting patiently for him to press 'yes' so it could resume.

It felt like a dream. It might have hurt less if Daniel could convince himself it was.

But there was a note in familar handwriting waiting for him on the table to prove otherwise.

Three words that answered everything, yet gave him nothing.

'I missed you.'

“Then why?” Daniel muttered to the page between his trembling fingers.

So soft, so tentative, came the taps against paper. Subtle, almost missable were it not for their splashes staining white to grey.

Daniel missed Seongwu the first time, and every time since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank so much to the requester, pls check out their art on twt @noeruchan !!


	7. Breathe in, breathe out (let go) | one-sided JBaek; Minbaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nu'est comeback im hype af

“This is going to hurt a little. But it will be over quickly.”

The doctor's voice was reassuring, a gentle touch to Dongho's clenched fist to coax the muscles underneath to relax. Dongho glanced up to the masked face waiting patiently for him to give permission to continue. Half-obscured by cotton, the part of the doctor's handsome face that he could see looked calm; dark almond-shaped eyes, uncreased, thin brows, a few strands of a blonde fringe resting against a porcelain forehead.

Dongho took a deep breath: the first, easiest step to what he knew would be a complicated procedure that will change his life- change who he was- forever. Mingi had begged him off it. 'You don't have to do this. There are other ways, Dongho, please..' Aron had spent days in endless research, sending him peer-reviewed papers that confirmed that what he was agreeing to in this sterile room was probably the worst idea he'd ever had in his life (except perhaps the mistake which had led him here in the first place, but Dongho didn't like to think of what they'd had as a mistake, not when so many beautiful moments lived between the lines of layers of pain).

And Jonghyun?

Dongho supposed he could find out his reaction after it was all over.

“Are you ready, Dongho?” The doctor's gloved fingers were poised around a needle. Beside him, nurses were prepping their workstations, fixing lighting, cleaning instruments, but among their footsteps and murmurs Dongho could sense their anticipation.

He wouldn't be their first, he knew. But that wasn't why he'd selected this surgery over all the other practices that offered the same procedure. He chose this place because he could trust no one else to see the truth slithering underneath his ribcage.

The doctor knew. Had known. He was ready.

“I...” Dongho wet his lips with his tongue, eyes on the needletip waiting to kiss his skin. Once the chemicals penetrated his bloodstream, there was no going back.

Almost like falling in love, he thought, and laughed.

Underneath him, the operating table shuddered, his rumbling chest straining against the strip of metal that would keep him in place when the doctor opened him up to tear out the 'infection'. 'Infection' – Dongho had thrown away all the articles Aron sent him that referred to what grew inside him as something foreign, as though it was a parasite and he merely an unfortunate host-

-but how could it be alien, when it was as much a part of who Dongho was as any other vital organ? A tiny seed that sprouted one autumn day in Dongho's chest when his best friend took his hand and kissed his cheek, stealing what little breath he'd had in his lungs completely away.

When he breathed again, it was for Jonghyun, and when it grew, it was for Jonghyun too.

The thought of love returned in Dongho's mind, and it ached where the bar kept him still.

“Dongho, look at me.” The doctor leaned over until the closeness of his face obscured the vision of the needle from Dongho's attention. Amber eyes caught focus quickly, glistening under the bright lights. “We can reschedule, if you are not ready. You still have a little time before you reach critical.”

“No..” Dongho tried to shake his head. The restraints pressed against his temples. Attempting to breathe in, he tried not to let his mind wander. He had to be ready. This was the only way to keep living even though he felt like dying, even though his reason for living was also the reason he was dying. “I can do it..I have to.”

“You can.” Latex-covered fingers eased between the creases of Dongho's clenched fist, carefully prying apart the locked digits and interlacing them.

Dongho was tempted to joke but that might make him laugh again and he didn't want to cause any more trouble to the staff here than he was in holding this up.

Instead he smiled, fingers gently squeezing around the small, talented ones that would save his life

fingers that, Dongho knew, were already saving him in more ways than one.

“I'll be right here with you, Dongho-ah.”

“You better.” Dongho muttered, shutting his eyes. He winced slightly when he felt the kiss, then melted against the operating slab when another came. “..see you in a few, Minyeon.”

-

When Dongho woke up, everything hurt.

His muscles felt sluggish and his head felt heavy, as though his bones had been liquefied and the medical professionals, unsure what to do with the excess, had simply drained all leftover calcium to pool in his skull.

He took a breath. The first one.

His weakened lungs filled too rapidly, inflating without a stem of restraint.

Dongho groaned, trying to lift a hand to press down on his ribs and deflate them.

Finally, he felt the comfort of resistance – in his hand, which was weighted down by another.

“Still not a morning person after all these years.” Minhyun squeezed his hand.

“Then why're-,” He couldn't get his mouth to work the way he wanted to.

“Like I was going to let the poor nurses have to deal with you when you're like this.”

“M'not-,”

”-you are, actually.” Minhyun's warm chuckle eventually faded as Dongho tried to sit up. “How..do you feel?”

Amber eyes opened slowly, crusted over from disuse like some ancient fossil. And when he saw Minhyun's face, mask-free and the worried line of his thinned lips, his blond hair ruffled as if it had seen too many touches in the last hour, hand carefully but warmly holding his weak fingers-

His chest felt lighter, lighter than the air filling it, and something fluttered in his heart; a new seed taking root that would blossom and in the years to come, finally bear sweet fruit.

“Like..I can breathe.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm to the requester! no flowers were harmed during the writing of this fic..


	8. Come Prima | JBaek; one-sided MinBaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> protective jr interview got me feeling some type of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence/death.

"You know that no one is going to come and save you, right?" 

That wasn't what Dongho had been raised with. For his entire life as crown Prince of Tammora, advisors, guards, soldiers, servants, his parents the King and Queen - all of them had always taken care of him. He had grown taller under the extended prosperity of lengthy summers and tall mountains that blessed his homeland with life-giving rain. The natural borders created by those same towering ranges provided Tammora with peace, with an army who only bore arms in military parades or on allied missions to assist with skirmishes of their neighbouring nation, Leiger.

Dongho had only known a life of protection. Even his lessons in duelling and war were precautionary, defensive. Preparation for a hypothetical situation, not the very real attack on his small convoy that left the small complement of his soldiers either dead or dying around him in this quiet forest path, with his own heart struggling between bursting with hate at the man responsible for this and drowning in grief for the men he had lost.

The ceremonial sword that usually glittered with pride at Dongho's hip now laid helpless under the sole of a blood-stained leather boot standing in front of him.

The Tamoran Prince would not be so easily pinned.

Dirt digging into his nails as he clawed his way back onto his knees, Dongho tried to ignore how everything ached, commanding his body to move, move, get up, even as it continued to bleed and bruise. Under the pressure of motion, he felt something sharp jabbing into his side and froze when he realised it had come from inside himself; a fractured rib nosing against the delicate membrane of his heaving lungs.

"If your parents had only accepted my offer sooner, then all of this could have been avoided." Softly, almost apologetically, his assailant lifted the tip of his blade to caress the curve of Dongho's cheek. "But it seems you inherited your stubbornness from them."

"Even if I had not been promised to another," Dongho spat, head snapping up as his eyes blazed red as the blood trickling from his split lip, "I would rather die than be your husband, Hwang Minhyun."

"Die? Now that is unnecessary." Minhyun crouched down to meet his gaze, elbow raised as he angled the fine point of his sword to depress the softness of Dongho's cheek, reminiscent of the kiss he had given to the Tamoran Prince at their first meeting five years ago. He would enjoy stealing more once Dongho learned that his rightful place was at his side and his alone. "I have done all this to have you as my own, I would never be so careless as to let you die. You will accept my proposal."

Dongho took a breath, shallow, careful. He had been trained in the ways of war since boyhood, a skilled swordsman in his own right, and the fallen enemy soldiers that now littered this once tranquil forest were testament to the sharpness of Dongho's blade.

But he was alone now. Completely alone. His guards dead. The horses had fled and even if they had been here, he doubted he had the energy to fling himself on a saddle and ride to the border. He would bleed out or be caught by the very man he was attempting to flee, had been for years. 

"Say yes, my Prince," Minhyun coaxed, "and I will take care of you. Calteron will be your nation's savior, you will want for nothing. I promise you."

Dongho had heard similar words before from a face more beautiful, and lips far sweeter. And for his sake, for the love that had grown since childhood until its roots ran deeper in his heart than those of the ancient trees whispering in the breeze around them, Dongho found the strength to speak,

"Never."

Minhyun's face transformed into an ugly sneer. "So be it, I will have you regardle-,"

Among the hush of the forest, the wind hid the whistle of rain. A volley of arrows sprang free from the cloudless sky, arcing from all directions and descending on the remaining Calteron soldiers. But one drop did not fall in a curve like the others – it flew, straight and true, piercing Minhyun’s chest at the same time as the Prince of Leiger’s cry shattered the silence,

"DONGHO!"

It mingled with the final murmur of the same name ghosting free of Minhyun’s lips, his shocked gaze absorbing his last glimpse of light in amber eyes before darkness consumed him whole. Perhaps he might have seen a flicker of pain there, of sorrow, or perhaps it was a dying man’s wish; he would never know.

Dongho turned to the direction of his fiance’s footsteps pelting towards him, blind to the dozens of soldiers of the Leigerian Royal Guard also emerging from their hiding places. He learned in that moment there was something that could hurt more than a broken rib and fractured bones –

it was seeing his beloved Prince Jonghyun’s expression dark with terror and anger, the pure whites of his wedding suit now stained with dirt and Dongho’s blood as he knelt and took him into his arms, kissing his forehead and rocking back and forth as he wept apologies for not being here, for not protecting him well enough, for almost losing him when

on this day, that which should have been the happiest beginning of their new lives together, the only words Jonghyun could manage now upon first seeing his groom were ‘I’m sorry’.

“-don’t say that.” Dongho ground out, wincing as he looked up at Jonghyun’s stunned face.

“But Dongho, I should have-“

“I don’t want..to hear that, not now.”

Softening, Jonghyun carefully kissed the uninjured corner of Dongho’s mouth. Thumbs swiped away blood and grime from prominent cheekbones tenderly. “Then what would you have me say, my love?”

“Say yes to me, Jonghyun.”

A single word that would not only save nations, but this disaster of a wedding day. One that Dongho would have no one else but the man here at his side, who had grown too anxious when the convoy had been a minute late and rode out immediately to search for him. Who used to playfully push him into the lake when Dongho had whined of being too hot on summer days, who shyly offered a ring to decorate his left hand even though they had been promised to each other since birth and no such token was needed, who now kissed that same hand despite the breaks which disfigured it. Who looked at him now with eyes heavy with tears and understanding.

The one who would always come to him when he needed him.

The one whom Dongho loved, and would always love.

Jonghyun pressed their foreheads together, eyes closing and whispered against Dongho’s awaiting lips,

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz & ily ;;


	9. i'ma shine like gloss | RenBaek (M/nsfw!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boss bitch CEO Ren ain't sorry and he shouldn't be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz minhyun tho fr LOL. next time u'll be happy i swear
> 
> nsfw lol unless you work for Choi Mingi

It had started as a means of releasing tension. Innocent – well, in a way innocently enough though he questioned if Minhyun really had the capacity to do anything without some kind of ulterior motive, but then Mingi also gave him credit that it would suggest Minhyun thought things through, which....that was being too generous really, in his opinion – a little bit of fun.

“Come on, you'll like him. I guarantee you will.” Minhyun had told him, all smiles and clapped his hands together when Mingi sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, but if he's boring then you're paying.”

“Already done.”

That's when Mingi finally felt his interest rise. Hearing his tight-fisted CFO had already thrown down money for tonight's entertainment was one thing

but seeing the outcome of that expenditure

well

perhaps saying he had regrets...wouldn't be his style. He'd made his choice (even if it felt like the wrong one, especially when he could see Minhyun being straddled by the curvacious blond at the back of the club with a wineglass in one hand and a fistful of a perfectly round asscheek in another and looking like christmas had come early, which, it had so Mingi figured Minhyun didn't need the annual bonus then - call him petty, but Mingi preferred 'Boss') and he had learned from it.

Not all business ventures had successful outcomes from the outset. Mingi knew that much. It's how he got to where he was.

A lesson that Minhyun had never learned. Clearly, as evidenced when his CFO walked in to his office the following week with his head in the papers he was about to raise,

  
“Mingi, I was running numbers against our 2019 report and-” Minhyun blinked, looking up and his tone pitched higher while the reports in his hands fluttered lower. “Dongho? What are you doing here?”

“Don't mind him, gorgeous, keep going.” Mingi ran his fingers through wavy blond hair, pushing Dongho's face back to his neck to remind of where he belonged. When the kisses he'd been enjoying still didn't resume, he glanced at the golden eyes looking up at him uncertainly and shook his head, clicking his tongue. “What is it?”

  
“Well...” Dongho licked his bottom lip, shifting from his position on Mingi's desk. “If you have work-”

“So do you.” Mingi reminded him, and he'd paid good money for it. That seemed to kick Dongho's focus straight back into gear but Mingi felt the sigh against his clavicle dusting his skin before soft lips retraced their previous path. Mingi rolled his head to the side, inviting Dongho's mouth to find unclaimed skin and looked past the blond's shoulder to meet Minhyun's stunned gaze.

“What do you want, Minhyun?”

The CFO didn't have that cocky smile that he wore at the club. In fact, he didn't have much expression on his face at all and the only functioning muscles apparently were those surrounding his eye tissue, and those were straining at their sockets staring at the very familiar body now perched on Mingi's desk, lean back covered in a slip of a white shirt half dragged off one shoulder, leather-clad thighs parted to accommodate the CEO's imposing chair and even more imposing self, despite their size difference. Dongho didn't look over at Minhyun again but Minhyun barely caught his breath as the tongue he'd once felt all over his skin was now currently tasting Mingi's jawline, dark lashes tracing the CEO's cheekbone.

“I...the reports..” Minhyun muttered, transfixed, red clawing up in anger to cover his ears.

“They can wait until Monday. Go home, Minhyun, or out.” Mingi's fingernails gently scraped through Dongho's hair, earning a small shudder from his rented companion. “I don't really care. As you can see, I'm in an important meeting.” He didn't bother waiting to watch Minhyun storm out, or the way he hovered and took a few steps towards the desk before he did, a name on his lips that died away the moment he realised Dongho wouldn't listen.

Mingi had better things to worry about, capturing the wandering lips near his mouth with his own, settling in for a deep kiss that left Dongho gasping. Regardless, the door slamming still made the blond jolt in Mingi's grip.

“Is he..?” Dongho looked worried for the few seconds Mingi didn't kiss him-  
– so Mingi kissed him, the pout away, the worry away, until all that was left was the sighs of his name and the shivering pleas when Mingi pushed him to lay back against the cold desk while he was slowly stripped of everything holding them back from being whole and together.

“You really came prepared tonight, didn't you?” Mingi chuckled, fingertip teasing along the inside of Dongho's bare knee. “What if I hadn't paid for extra?”

“Then I would have found someone who would.” Dongho replied cheekily, rotating his hips to entice Mingi's touch higher.

In the darkness of the otherwise empty office level, no one could hear how the company CEO could laugh, no one except for the delightful man who shocked it out of him.

“You won't find anyone else like me, Dongho.” Minki purred against his lips, hands carefully pulling the welcoming heat of Dongho's limbs around his waist.

“I wasn't trying to.” Dongho grinned before kissing Mingi, their tongues moving in careful swipes to match the gentle prodding rhythm of Mingi's lubricated tip attempting to broach Dongho's awaiting entrance. “You're more than enough of a pain in the ass for me.”

“You bet I am.” Mingi laughed, and got ready to prove his point precisely.

— and when Monday came, the reports were finished, and Mingi was met with Minhyun's sullen expression glaring at him from across the boardroom table, the CEO couldn't have been happier. After all, his cute little investment would be waiting at him for him after work tonight at home. Not just for tonight, but for the foreseeable future. It had cost a tidy sum but as far as Mingi was concerned, Dongho was more than worth it.

“I found him first.” Minhyun sulked as the meeting room began to empty of suits, ties, and boring figures Mingi only kept on in respect to his father's legacy.

“You did.” Mingi agreed, shrugging. He pushed his glasses frames back up the bridge of his nose, smiling behind his palm. “But I paid for him last.”


	10. Take a sip | BaekMin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alt title: bubble bubble, Dongho toils and is in trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things never turn out how i mean for them to before i start, but i hope you like it anyway love

  
“So if I drink this, he'll love me?” The liquid in the glass was a startling array of colours, swirling like the queasy anticipation in his stomach.

“He'll love you until the end of time. He'll want no one else, he'll chase you to the edge of the earth blah blah just pay up already.” The witch sniffed, unfolding one arm from across his chest to offer a palm.

“Oh right, yeah sorry.” Dongho pat down his chest pocket, nope not there, down to his front pockets, then ah, “Sorry, here you go.” He dragged the silver ring from his back pocket and pressed into the awaiting palm.

The witch crinkled his nose. “Augh, it's still warm.” The residual body heat clung to the smooth metal but he raised it to his eyes to inspect it regardless, still wearing the same expression for a few seconds before he pursed his lips. “It's good enough I suppose.” Carefully, he slid the plain band onto his left ring finger and admired it from different angles like a newly wedded bride.

“So..I can drink now?” Dongho asked.

He had been leaning towards the cup, fingertips edging over the top of the table like a skittish kitten waiting to pounce.

“Yes yes go on then.” The witch laced his fingers together, propping his chin atop his knuckles while watching as the nervous man brought the cup up to his mouth. “You know-,”

“Eh?” The interruption caused the liquid to slosh in the cup as Dongho jolted in his seat. “What?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. Drink.” Dongho nodded, staring down at the galaxy of indigo and black cradled in his hand.

In here was his first taste of a sweeter universe, one where he could finally be happy, be with the one he loved. A little sip would be eternal bliss. Hopefully it would taste as sweet as sweet as the smile as the one he loved, but Dongho wasn't holding his breath; drinking it one mouthful would probably be the easiest way to get this over with. He raised his cup,

“But you know-,”

Dongho huffed, replacing the glass onto the countertop with a heavy thud. Indigo trickled over his hands, drops like venom following the lines of his raised veins.

“What. Just say it.”

The witch chuckled, eyes too bright even as he was met with a dark scowl. In this tiny shop, the incense mist carried a heavy perfume of patchouli and vanilla musk, curling around the endless shelves stocked with jars of pickled parts and noxious herbs Dongho couldn't begin to recognise, packed between reams of ancient tomes with withered embossed letters he'd never be able to read. In the cramped darkness where shadows seemed to grow like weeds despite the sunny afternoon awaiting Dongho's return outside, the witch stood behind the counter, radiant as the dawn. Except for his smile.

That was as strained as the last fingers of sunlight attempting to pry through stormclouds.

' _He's the best you'll find_.' Aron had told him, slipping a dried petal into Dongho's palm. Spelled lettered glittered only in the midday sun, revealing an address. ' _But his price will be high. Be careful, ok?'_

 _'Why? What did you have to pay him?'_ Dongho had whispered back, but his older brother had refused to speak of it.

After all the payments Dongho had had to endure under this witch, he had begun to understand why Aron had kept his mouth shut.

It was...embarassing.

To say the least.

Scrubbing laundry at the river with the local washerwomen.

Washing windows even though the damn shop's exterior was covered in poison ivy.

Picking flowers from the local forest and then being told he got the wrong ones, only to have to go back out again, _'oh and bring some of those fuselin mushrooms too, won't you Dongho?'_ the witch's honey-sweet cackle followed him out the door as he obediently turned heel (but not before letting his displeasure be unknown with a snort- 'I said fuselin, not truffles, your snout isn't that good' the witch shot back, and Dongho didn't enjoy all the 'little piglet' jokes he endured when he did return to the witch making a strange stew in his cauldron. Turned out that was dinner, and then he had to eat with him too..which...was less terrible. Until he had to wash the dishes.)

Worse still, Aron had been shocked to find out Dongho was still paying off his order, muttering that it was excessive. ' _Everyone else only had to give up one thing, why are you still out here doing his chores?'_ Gentler, when Dongho had laughed, he'd broached, ' _is he really worth all this effort, Dongho? Maybe you should consider-'_

Dongho did consider it. 

And it took five months.

Five months of silly jobs and endless chores for the witch. Five months of spending nearly every night with him, watching his annoyingly perfect smile disarm nervous customers who entered the shop, his small, slender hands carefully mixing potions and plucking the petals from the flowers Dongho had spent most of his day gathering for him (and if Dongho sometimes grabbed a few extra to drop into the plain jar he'd washed out and left on the counter to brighten the spooky place, the witch never complained about it. _'_ _What are they for?'_ he'd been asked the first time he'd dropped them in, _I didn't ask for those.'_ Dongho had nodded, yanking off his dirt-covered smock. _'You didn't, but your place could use something else to brighten it up. It's like a crypt in here._ ' He'd picked pink cistus blossoms and a pair of peonies. They weren't perfect but they were nice, he'd thought, the blush of their petals similar to the cheeks that bunched into a teasing smile at him when he was asked, ' _And what else brightens up this place, Dongho? Hm?_ '. Dongho elected not to answer. He didn't fancy the witch's head needed to get any bigger than it already was, he might snap his neck from the strain.).

Five months until he worked up the nerve to end this daily arrangement, to stride up to the witch's counter and dump the wooden pail in front of him and demand for what was promised to him. The witch had stared at him before sighing, ' _B_ _e ready today, I shall do it.'_

Now Dongho finally had in his hands what he'd come here for.

Love.

If only the big-mouthed witch didn't keep interrupting him.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“I'm not saying anything.” The witch whined.

“That would be a first.” Dongho scoffed, picking up the cup again.

He took a deep breath. The potion trembled under the warm stream of air as he exhaled.

“Fine.”

The rim of cool glass pressed against his bottom lip.

Dongho shut his eyes.

It was lucky he did.

Who knows if the potion could have melted his eyes on contact – it needed to come with a warning, maybe,

or maybe if his wrist wasn't yanked by a dramatically screaming witch and the entire contents of the glass weren't splashed into his face, then a warning wouldn't have been necessary.

Except there he was, skin inked with black and purple as though he'd been beaten by an angry squid, while the person who had made the very thing he'd ruined stood with his mouth gaping.

Neither spoke again for several seconds.

Then the witch burst out into giggles.

“Minhyun-” Dongho growled, not even daring to open his eyes. “I swear-”

“I'll get you a towel, just wait.” The voice he'd recognise anywhere was airy with amusement. Like most of time, it was amused at his expense. “Don't open your eyes. They'll melt if you-”

Dongho paled under his new mask of liquid dripping down his chin. “What do you mean they'll **melt**? Oh my god hurry up get it off me!”

He could hear the witch's footsteps tapping away into the back room behind the counter. Dongho stood tense, face screwed up tightly. His hands trembled around the now empty glass, too terrified to move. He didn't relax even when he heard Minhyun return.

In fact he tensed more when the witch's hand gently brushed over his knuckles.

He didn't need to have his eyes open to know Minhyun was standing in front of him, smirking as his pristine white robed-self was carefully prying the glass from the stained and messy Dongho. He didn't need to see it because he could hear that expression in Minhyun's chuckle, “Calm down you big baby, I got it.”

Dongho released the cup to Minhyun's grip. Glass thudded against the wooden countertop.

“Keep them closed.”

Soft cotton gently kissed Dongho's lavender brows first, then dabbed in the concave of his scrunched eyelids.

“Dongho, relax.” The command was gentler still, if only Dongho could obey.

But as the damp cloth was carefully drawn over his face, dabbing away the sticky liquid with the same precision he'd seen Minhyun apply countless times but only to his magical efforts, Dongho couldn't move. He couldn't relax. He was tense, his chin rising in guidance to Minhyun's towelled fingers before all contact ceased.

“There, it's alright.” Minhyun soothed. “Almost done. Just a bit here-”

Dongho was about to open his eyes. About to breathe. His skin felt sticky, warm from the damp towel, his shirt was clinging uncomfortably to his clavicle where the potion had stained it, with droplets winding over his torso and tickling his navel. He wanted to wash this off properly and he parted his lips to ask Minhyun if it was ok to look now.

His eyes were screwed shut. His breath remained caught and his lips stayed parted as another pair suddenly and gently pressed against them.

Short fingers that he'd spent months admiring, adoring now wound through his lavender curls as though he was the cistus, as though he was more delicate than the peony petals, and maybe he was for in this moment, Dongho found himself trembling as a petal in the wind against the solid warmth of Minhyun's chest. As Minhyun's sweet laughter now breathed into Dongho's lungs, there was nothing else he could hear but that chime in his ears, of the silken pop of their lips when they finally parted.

“You..can open your eyes now.” Minhyun murmured, apologetic. The laughter and all the light seemed to die with his next words, “Sorry, Dongho I-”

A single tap of a footstep retreating.

Dongho snapped out both hands blindly, fists clamping around the white robes in front of him. He tugged hard, yanking, and if the witch were a cup of a mysterious potion then he might have spilled and stained the floor, but he was a solid mass and instead his lips were brought back to stain Dongho's awaiting mouth again.

“What are you sorry for?” He muttered when he felt Minhyun's forehead against his own, catching his breath. Sticky lashes parted slowly, fluttering as Dongho grinned and took in the view of the witch's flushed cheeks.

He'd worked hard for five months. Fulfilling all the silly little whims of a witch he'd eventually realised was making up excuses to keep him around. Dongho gathered, cleaned, dusted, and arranged. He did everything Minhyun had asked of him with only one goal in mind, seeking the same thing he'd came in for all those months ago.

Except love wasn't at the bottom of a glass; it was spilled over him in playful teases, in gentle touches when he walked past the counter, in quiet songs sung to him as he tended to Minhyun's expensive stock collection, unaware for a time that the witch had too been observing his most precious possession behind a smile and wistful sighs.

“I ruined it, didn't I?” Minhyun asked, and against his forehead Dongho felt him frown. “You wanted R-”

“Nah,” Dongho leaned back, smiling before kissing the tip of Minhyun's nose. “I got what I came here for.”


	11. that's what I like | Everybody/Dongho ; JBaek (nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow rmb when Jonghyun wore a maroon turtleneck Dongho wore and it made us lose our fcking minds yeah no me neither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its everyone its baekho its explicit its trash ik ok bye ily

After twenty years of friendship, Dongho is pleased to find out there is always more to know about Jonghyun. He has always lived his life on impulse, following and anticipating based on intuition, and after so long Dongho thinks he has got a pretty good read on his friends and what they like and don't like. And his guesses were almost always spot on.

Hwang Minhyun, for example, was definitely a leg man. Dongho had felt Minhyun's unblinking gaze burning through his trousers or shorts on a number of occasions during their teen years right up to adulthood. He would find excuses to rest a hand on top of Dongho's thigh or slip something into his back pocket to be 'helpful'. So it came as no surprise (well, Dongho was surprised it happened, he'd never forget his shock when after they stumbled home from a long night out, tipsy only on the celebratory mood after a successful win, that Minhyun pressed him against the wall the second the front door closed.

 _'Minhyun?'_ He'd been startled, wide-eyed, back pressed against flimsy white plaster and even if he could have pushed the taller man away, he didn't want to.

' _Dongho-yah..just..I can't..not anymore..'_ Minhyun breathed heavily against him, grinding their fronts together so Dongho could feel the hard-on poking against his groin. He'd flushed, _'so pretty',_ Minhyun had cooed, and before Dongho could ask _'why now, what did I do?'_ -

because really, what had he done? It was just one joke lap dance, he wasn't even that good at it, and he honestly thought that Minhyun hadn't enjoyed it - his best friend wore that weirdly tense smile when he was happy, sad, or on another planet - but maybe it was it because Dongho remembered Minhyun's hands were tightly clenched, and the others had teased him for his 'manner hands' - there's no manners now when Minhyun hastily unbuttons Dongho's tight jeans, peels them down immediately along with Dongho's briefs to his knees, and he's that distracted he doesn't even whine or joke about how Dongho's wearing the blue ones he hates, he just rakes his fingernails over the powerful muscles of Dongho's thighs and starts kissing until Dongho is barely able to stand under his own power, fingers in Minhyun's black hair, screaming only one name.)

He allowed the lips that smashed against his and the hands that cupped his ass, squeezing moans out of him that Dongho didn't know he was capable of making; by the end of the night, the only thing Dongho had accurately anticipated was Minhyun did not let a single moment occur where he couldn't feel Dongho's legs, either in his hands or wrapped around his waist as Minhyun fucked him against the wall of their tiny apartment. Five years later and Dongho still couldn't walk past Minhyun without feeling a light tap or a heated stare on his thighs, regardless of if he was wearing shorts or baggy workout pants.

Aron, he was definitely an ass man. At first Dongho chalked up the little slaps as just an American thing, like so many other little oddities Aron had. Until he noticed (ok it took a while too, because he really didn't think much about it, and he might never have if they didn't have that awkward talk over the kitchen counter of 'hey..so...are you and Minhyun a thing?' and Dongho having to explain they were, but it was the kind of thing where they could have other things if they wanted, and it got even more awkward when Aron asked, 'and..do you? Want another thing?' because Dongho hadn't, not really, he just knew Minhyun did and he accepted that he should be grateful that this was the only thing he could get, until Aron made it clear that it wasn't. Aron made it very clear.) and suddenly, Aron was insisting Dongho sit on his lap when they were all hanging out, which did get a few raised eyebrows from their friends and long, strained stares Dongho didn't know how to read.

What he did eventually understand was it wasn't an American thing - men didn't sit on each other's laps as a casual thing there, and Aron didn't invite anyone else in their friends' group to do it either. Dongho still didn't mind that, and he minded it even less when it was just the two of them and he could bounce on Aron's lap with abandon, feeling Aron's hands carefully holding his asscheeks to spread them as he breathed encouragement in a series of groans and curses, 'Fuck babe your ass is incredible, holy fuck you're tight'. Dongho had grown embarassed at the praise, and he never quite got used to the feeling of Aron's tongue tracing his entrance no matter how many times they had sex, but he loved his hyung and loved that he could tell his hyung loved him and his ass. Even when they eventually slowed their moments down, Aron never stopped slapping his ass in casual settings, and Dongho was fine with that because he still called Aron his handsome hyung every moment he could, regardless of who was around.

  
  


Mingi was harder to figure out, as what he liked seem to change depending on his mood of the day. For Dongho, as long as that mood was 'happy', he was open to doing whatever Mingi asked for. It made it difficult to make his own needs known - if he wanted Minhyun's attention, he knew to wear shorts, if he wanted Aron's, then it was the tightest jeans he could possibly squeeze into or running tights, but Mingi? Sometimes Mingi would make comments about Dongho's arms, or he'd kiss along Dongho's tattoos. Other times it was his chest, or compliments to his back when Dongho was on his knees in front of him and Mingi laid on top him, cock gently sinking between Dongho's tense asscheeks into the well-prepared heat that craved his gentleness as much as it did the pleasurable stretch and fullness of their joining. "Dongho, nnh, my tiger, my big boy," Mingi would kiss his ear, "so good, so good for me." Thin arms struggled to hold the entirety of the huge body shaking beneath him, but Dongho found out it wasn't just him that loved the way they fit together.

It was when he'd started hitting the gym daily, ('hey, are you sure you should be eating that?' Minhyun would ask innocently as Dongho took a helping of seafood stew, 'you always complain how it makes you bloat up'. 'If he wants to eat, let him.' Mingi piped up, with Jonghyun nodding silently beside him, but even with Mingi's kind eyes, Dongho found he had less of an appetite, and maybe he didn't enjoy wearing shorts so much anymore because maybe Minhyun..) then it became clear.

'You're so..small..tiger." Mingi mumbled against his shoulder, arms wrapped easily around Dongho's chest as he thrusted into him slowly. When Minhyun breathed those same words, Dongho lit up from the praise, hearing and feeling how that turned Minhyun on, but hearing it spoken so quietly in Mingi's bed, it makes him freeze in his embrace.

'Is..is that bad? Do you not like-,' Dongho wilted, trying to turn around to see Mingi's face.

'I like you, Dongho.' Mingi cuts him off, pausing and wrapping himself tighter around Dongho's body. They lay there like that for what feels like hours. Warmth, a tight fit around him like a blanket on a frosty winter's morning, with their irregular breaths eventually settling to synchronise, it’s everywhere in this room, between them. Dongho shudders when Mingi pulls out, not from the sudden emptiness he feels inside - because he felt empty before that anyway - but because Mingi then held him tighter, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his lips. Even if Mingi was smaller than Dongho until recently, his heart was the biggest Dongho had ever known.

'If you're happy, I'm happy.' Dongho muttered into Mingi's collarbone.

'And I'm happy if you're happy.' Mingi rested his chin on top of black locks, kissing them. 'Are you happy, Dongho?'

The 'yes' was almost spoken automatically, he was so used to saying it to everyone and to himself. Then Mingi looked him in the eye and asked again, 'Really?'

"Yes! Jonghyun-ah! Right there, please, aahhh." Dongho's back arches off the mattress while his hips desperately attempt to force himself down further onto Jonghyun’s cock. He's learned since they got together that Jonghyun does like to tease him in the bedroom just as much as outside of it - that much he'd anticipated, and even as he begs now for Jonghyun to keep going, his boyfriend stills his hips instead and grins down at him.

"Jonghyun-ah.." Dongho tries the pout - it sometimes works and Jonghyun gives in and resumes his rhythm – but not tonight.

“Why’re you acting so cute?” Jonghyun asks instead. His hand reaches to smooth away damp lilac curls from Dongho’s forehead fondly like they’re taking a break during their mid-morning jog in the park rather than Jonghyun being buried balls deep in Dongho’s ass, excess lube mixed with sweat gathered between Dongho’s raised thighs and slicking each thrust of Jonghyun’s hips. Hips that still won’t move even when Dongho purposefully clenches, and he knows Jonghyun feels it, likes it, because the cock inside him twitches upward involuntarily, tip skimming but not adding the pressure Dongho desperately wants to his prostate.

“I’m not!” Dongho insists. He isn’t cute, he’s never been cute, but he likes that Jonghyun thinks so.

In fact, he’s discovered a lot of things that he likes over the last few years, things he hadn’t anticipated.

Waking up, for example, was always a bit of a challenge for Dongho. He preferred to wake up in stages, with a set of alarms to snooze over and over so he felt like he was getting more sleep than he really was. But what he didn’t expect was now he preferred waking immediately – not that he could help it, because it was impossible to relax when a careful hand snaked up his bare chest in the early morning, tanned fingers exploring the raised mounds of muscle and tissue and cupping it as Jonghyun rolled him over just enough so that he could reach one dusky rose nipple with his tongue, sucking gently until Dongho’s chest was heaving into parted lips, his cock fully awake even when his eyes were still half-closed. And he loved higher toned voices, but Jonghyun’s sleepy purr of _‘Good morning, baby’_ while he licked a path around Dongho’s star tattoo just had him melting.

He likes that too – the nicknames – that pour out of Jonghyun’s mouth as he whispers words of praise and encouragement to Dongho’s lips, against his inner thighs, around his nipple, ‘you’re doing great baby, you’re so cute honey, you feel great, god you’re so hot baby you’re sucking me in, you love it like this don’t you, you want me this bad’ as Jonghyun’s wet fingers slide into him and Dongho shivers, half nodding as he swallows a sob from the pain sweetened by those words that give him so much pleasure.

Dongho likes it, no he loves it. He loves Jonghyun’s touch, he loves his voice, and he loves how it feels when they’re together, as they are now – intertwined, their naked skin painted with the sweat and kisses from one another- and he can lie back and admire everything about this moment.  
  


“What’re you thinking baby?” Jonghyun asks, recognising that look in golden eyes.

He stiffens when Dongho reaches to smooth his hands up his torso, the heel of his palm bumping over each sculpted muscle and over the developed crests that recently have beening teasing Dongho’s gaze any time he wears a fitted shirt or a loose singlet. Tonight it had been a maroon turtleneck, one from Dongho’s own closet that Jonghyun found in the pile of their unsorted laundry, half-forgotten and barely folded. He’d pulled it on, fully aware that his boyfriend would like it, always did when they wore each other’s clothes. But he hadn’t been ready for Dongho tackling him to the bed the second he came in to prepare for sleep.

  
He should have, though, in hindsight. Because after twenty years of friendship, Jonghyun knows what Dongho likes. He has learned to be observant, memorised everything about his best friend, from the way Dongho’s sensitive skin is always begging to be touched, to the way his sensitive heart is constantly seeking approval and love. Once, it had been anyone’s touch, anyone’s approval.

Now, it is just Jonghyun’s. He knows Dongho craves his hands over his chest, whining when they travel down his firm abs and following his narrow waist line, or when they spread his legs apart and finger him, sometimes to completion, sometimes just to the edge to tease him before Jonghyun eases his lubed cock inside like tonight.

“I’m thinking I love you, Jonghyun-ah.” Dongho says, hand resting where underneath, Jonghyun’s heart pounds wildly. Always has only for him, and always will.

Jonghyun doesn’t answer, his skin already flushed, but he begins to move again, finally, and Dongho lets out a relieved sigh. It becomes a series of moans, words losing meaning as Jonghyun thrusts harder, deeper, fucking into the delicious heat that makes his entire body tremble. They find each other’s hands, fingers intertwining. Dongho tries to say his name; Jonghyun tries to kiss him. Like their relationship, it’s messy, imperfect, the way they come together: a battle of tongues and groans, of muscles contracting and skin slapping, the lewd squelches that leaves Dongho harder and Jonghyun unravelling inside him, filling him with a choked moan. Jonghyun’s sweaty forehead rests between the cleft of Dongho’s shaking chest. Catches his breath. His hand finds Dongho’s length and a single squeeze is all it takes for Dongho to release over their chests, spasming entrance milking the remnants of Jonghyun’s cum as if even in this moment, he can’t bear to be alone. Jonghyun knows, he’s there, holds Dongho through the cries and the shakes, kisses him and whispers _‘my baby my love I love you, only you you’re mine’_ until they are boneless with exhaustion and Dongho falls asleep in his arms. And when Dongho’s favourite alarm wakes him in the morning, he gets to rediscover everything Jonghyun likes all over again.

Twenty years. That’s how long it takes for Dongho to finally figure it out.

He knows what kind of man Jonghyun is.

He’s Dongho’s.


	12. when i see your face, unforgettable | minbaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /cries in Universe.

"this is the last time i'm doing this." he says it like he means it, but they both know he doesn't.

minhyun has been coming here since the dreams started three months ago. the first time he'd experienced all the typical side effects - the nausea, the hyperventilating, the disassociation, the headaches, the dry mouth. the second time, he felt better, even if he didn't feel at all like himself. maybe that was the key, minhyun decided from then on. maybe what he needed to do was just..stop. being himself. 

"and you'll need to make it quick too." minhyun mumbles, settling into the uncomfortable seat while the headset is adjusted for him. multicoloured cords flow over minhyun's chest, pooling into his lap where his tense fingers sit laced on top of them, as if presiding over the data each one of the strands feed and erase from his mind. if he'd really had any control, then he wouldn't be here in the first place. "i have to be in hongdae in three hours for a charity ball."

"this can't be rushed. if you're late, you're late." the engineer shrugs him off, fingers carefully rotating the dials on the band mounted across minhyun's temple like a primitive headdress. "how far back do you need?"

"just last night will be fine." minhyun waves his twined hands in the direction of the small tablet he'd left on the countertop to the engineer's left. among the mess of schematics, wires, and tools, it is nearly impossible to make out. "i put the REM coordinates in there."

"alright." the engineer leans back on the stool, reaching for the tablet and scrolling through it. he sighs, running a hand through the short fuzz of his bleached hair. "hwang, this isn't good-"

"you can still do it, can't you?"

"i can," the engineer emphasises the latter word, "but when they're all mixed up like this, it gets a lot more complicated."

"then uncomplicate it." minhyun shuts his eyes, breathing out. "that's what i'm paying you for."

"not enough." came the mutter while the quiet hum of the machine started up.

"then work on your price list." minhyun says. "maybe then you can afford a better studio. this place is a dump."

"guess it's a good thing you're not coming back here, then huh." before minhyun can try to shoot back about the importance of hygiene and that he was certain he wasn't the only client who thought aron's practice was in dire need of a makeover, the machine's low series of beeps cuts him off.

minhyun takes a few stablising breaths like he's been taught, forces his brow to uncrease. blank thoughts. blank slate. 

"starting in five, four, three, two, one." aron's gloved hand touches his forearm briefly, "sleep well, hwang."   


-

the ballroom is stunning. the chois, tonight's hosts, opted to rent out the entire gallery and among the extravagent displays the screen-rendered artworks mingle the elite of the nation, all dressed in their best. minhyun doesn't quite remember why he'd picked out his navy suit yesterday to be the one to wear tonight but when he woke up in the back of his limousine with a pounding headache, his plain turtleneck reeking of burnt solder and the faintest whiff of ozone, he'd been grateful to have had the foresight to bring a change of clothes and leave it in the car.

he'd felt sick the whole ride in, his phone exploding with the host's messages from 7pm demanding to know why he was late. _'i had an appointment, it ran over'_. he couldn't tell mingi more than that; even his personal calender only had a reference to _'meeting A'_ and three hours blocked out. nothing else. 

by the time minhyun walks through the doors of the gallery, the headache had faded and he feels more ready to make it through the night. 

'there you are.' mingi grabs him the second he spots him, 'what took you so long?'

'traffic.' minhyun replies, gaze wandering over the bustling hall. 'i made it, didn't i? looks nice.' 

harp strings are singing sweet high notes under the chatter of socialites and businessmen, while piano chords from the far corner trickled in between serves of champagne and wine. 

'more than i can say about you," mingi plucks at the cuff of minhyun's navy suit jacket. there isn't much give in the material, already tight over his forearm. minhyun moves out of mingi's reach while his friend scoffs, 'where'd you dig this one out from? the 90's?' 

'what about you?' minhyun doesn't remember where he found this suit in his mansion closets but it feels familiar even if the fit doesn't. there's a small flash of discomfort in the base of his temple; minhyun resists the urge to apply pressure there.

'what about me?' mingi raises his arms to show off his colourful outfit and patent crocodile leather loafers.

'you look like a clown stumbled into moschino and they just gave you shoes out of pity.' 

mingi scoffs, grabbing a flute of champagne as a server passes by and presses it into minhyun's hand. 'it's called fashion. not that you know anything about appreciating art.'

'if it looks like this,' minhyun glances at the exhibits on display, each static screen bright with splashes of colour as nauseating as the vomit curdling in his unsettled gut. he wraps his forearm over his navel discreetly, trying to hold it in and mutters, 'i think i'm better off not knowing.'

'politicians. you're all the same.' mingi shakes his head. within seconds the host is fluttering away to greet another familiar face, leaving minhyun alone to nurse his fading headache and aching stomach.

minhyun is grateful for the space. after several hours of being pulled into glib conversations and dodging the sly attempts to determine his opinion on the most mundane matters of policy, minhyun skirts the edges of the ballroom. his interest in the art he stares at is as fake as the 'champagne' bubbling in his refilled glass, the acrid taste of sparkling water doing little to settle his upset stomach. the doctor's appointment he schedules for tomorrow can't come too soon. so far the only thing that's helped his discomfort is focussing on the notes reverberating from the grand piano in the corner of the room. they trickle relief down his frayed nerves like water beading down from a frigid icicle. 

he wanders in the direction of the source of the sound. the crowd has thinned in this area, a polite circle of distance created to give space the pianist and the melody he is working on. it's familiar, even if he's certain he hasn't heard it before. he can't remember; maybe he had, maybe it was just in a waiting room or some dinner function so he'd never quite heard it, only absorbing a few notes here and there. more to his interest is in finding a seat to get off his feet. there's only one near the grand piano - it's a stool, empty where the harpist has clearly disappeared to take a break - and minhyun considers it. stands for a few seconds, wondering through the lines of tension in his pained head on how annoyed the musician might be, or worse, mingi would be, if he was caught taking a seat that belonged to someone.

there is one other seat, he considers, one half that is definitely free. 

until its not, because somehow he's already sitting on it. 

the music doesn't stop, masterful fingertips trilling grace notes over ivory and black keys. minhyun watches them moving with the same distant fascination he felt when he'd woken up in his limo hours ago next to an unfamiliar suit pressed with his signature neatness. familiar, yet impossibly unfamiliar. the navy suit doesn't fit him well - it is tight against his muscles, and for the first time tonight minhyun is glad for it. 

it feels like it is the only thing keeping his heart restricted to his body when the pianist next to him says gently,

'hey minhyun. got a request?' 

minhyun jolts, eyes fluttering as he turns to look at the stranger sitting beside him - or rather, who he'd come to sit beside.

'no request.' he thinks he says it out loud.

he must have because the pianist chuckles, eyes still on the keys as the melody transitions from sweet high notes to sombre minor chords.

'ok, how about this one?' 

minhyun finds himself humming along to the music. his fingers traces the rhythm through small taps against his frosted glass. he doesn't remember hearing it before yet he knows it with the same instinctive certainty old bones feel the ache of rain before it falls. 

'you can sing, if you want.' the pianist tells him, and before minhyun knows what he's saying, he's said it,

'only if you do too.' he bites on his bottom lip, like somehow it will stop him from speaking so familiarly again with someone he doesn't know. (or maybe its to hold back the smile he doesn't know why is trying to break free)

'nah, mingi only asked me to play tonight.' the pianist replies, not missing a beat.

'wait, you know mingi too?' minhyun blurts out. the seal on his lips made by his teeth break too easily.

he regrets it when the pianist pauses, looking up at him in confusion. their eyes meet. suddenly, there is a searing pain flaring up behind minhyun's forehead. he clenches the glass in his palm, knuckles whitening. _look down. look away. don't look._ the thoughts circle, useless commands. minhyun stares instead. at the face across from him only separated by a few centimetres of air when the pianist leans in. so close that minhyun could count the flecks of gold embedded in his brown eyes (its fifteen, seven in the left, eight in the right; he doesn't need to count). so close that minhyun's breath could clear the strands of lavender hair on the other's forehead (except he swears it should have been blond and curlier).

so close. 

too close for strangers.

so why-

'are you feeling ok minhyun?' 

'i have a headache.' minhyun answers. it's the truth. for once, its what he actually means to say. his head is pounding, shrieking and without the piano to distract him, he feels as though his entire body is made up of old bones and it's not just rain coming - it's a thunderstorm.

'you don't look good. wait here, i'll-,' the pianist is standing and the distance, too small before, feels too great.

minhyun breaches it, hand grabbing the other's fingers. the too-small navy jacket constricts his arms, bunching painfully at the curves of his tensed biceps. it's annoying, he thinks. it shouldn't be this tight. it used to fit him better, minhyun remembers, back when he was younger-

-just like the hand he takes into his own, carefully interlacing their fingers together.

'minhyun?' 

'dongho, please.' the name plunges from his lips, the first drop of rain.

it's joined by a torrent of memories bursting free. they flow between the dunes of his gyri and the parched valleys of his sulci, flooding the white matter tracts with a monsoon of neural activity and washing away all the dams engineered between the lobes of his cerebrum. with the impediments gone, the fossilised remnants of all the feelings he had paid thousands to bury now rise to the surface. minhyun remembers:

the hand in his own being kissed by his lips, wearing a ring that he had given him when they were just seventeen. the fingers carefully teaching him the major and minor chords over a beaten up keyboard. the honeyed voice that sang to him through the nights to soothe his worries before press conferences, that sang his name in breathless gasps while the eyes that look so worried now once looked up at him full of love and warmth. 

there's still warmth there, there's still love. minhyun tightens his grip on dongho's hand to pull him in closer because he's drowning all over again, he's suffocating and he needs him to pull him out of these memories before he's overwhelmed again and goes under. 

'minhyun-ah..you're..' dongho's other hand finds minhyun's face, thumb carefully clearing away the first raindrop. 

'i remember,' minhyun puts down his glass and hastily grabs his other hand. presses dongho's warm palm against his cheek and shuts his eyes, lets the sensation wash over him. _god_ , he remembers this, he drowns in it. how dongho would lean in, how soft his lips were against his own, 'dongho-yah i remember it all.'

'people are looking, please don't.' dongho insists.

'i used to say that, didn't i?' the words sounded foreign in dongho's voice but he remembered it spoken all too often in his own. minhyun holds on, eyes fluttering open, 'i'm sorry, god i was such an-'

'everything ok here?' 

minhyun doesn't remember this voice but dongho tenses instantly like he's a statue _, by gods he is one_ minhyun thinks frantically, he could replace every unworthy piece of art in this gallery and minhyun could never tire of looking at him. minhyun tightens his grip as dongho turns away from him. _look at me, don't look anywhere else,_ the words are there; he can't say them.

'minhyun's not feeling well, jonghyun-ah.' dongho says. 'i think he needs to go home. can you find mingi?'

'i'm fine!' minhyun's mouth forms the words but no sound comes out. he tries to squeeze dongho's hands to regain his attention.

'ok, but are you sure? i can stay here with you if you need.' jonghyun asks carefully, but there's a coldness in his tone that makes minhyun's stomach begin to ache all over again. maybe he doesn't remember it all, the rivers haven't finished filling. aron had warned him that this could happen.

'i got this, it's alright. we'll be out front.' the hand trapped on minhyun's cheek gently presses down as dongho finally looks at him again. 'come on, minhyun.'

minhyun stands with the pull of dongho's hand, following the natural flow of his instincts. he remembers the last time he'd worn this suit five years he hadn't - he'd gone against everything in his heart, and in doing so broke the only one who had meant anything to him. 

'i'll meet you out there.' jonghyun says against dongho's lips, grabbing him just as the pianist begins to walk past. 

of course he'd picked this suit out last night after mingi told him of the guest list, minhyun recalls as dongho helps him into the back of the limousine,

_('stay with me.'_   
_'i can't, minhyun-ah. you already know i can't.')_

it still fit him well enough to witness another burial of the same broken hearts. 

  
-

"welcome back." 

minhyun doesn't bother giving the engineer more than a sniff as he neatly places the tablet onto the messy counter. he takes his seat, hands resting on his lap and waits for the band to be fitted over his head.

aron sighs, preparing the instruments and turns on the machine. a soft mechanical hum fills the stale air of the tiny workshop. "so how far are we going back this time?"

minhyun pauses, counts to fifteen. remembers the careful hands clearing away the rain on his cheeks. remembers the murmured words begging him to see a doctor, to look after himself, he was acting so strangely and they were all worried. 

remembers how it could have been him kissing dongho and going home together after the ball, if only he hadn't chosen to break him instead of keep him.

"just last night will be fine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am the reason i can't have nice things im sry baekmin (jbaek yw? idk im still sad :/)


	13. wanderlust (all that glitters) | BaekMin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i might have not done the twt meme the way it was intended.....................................welp
> 
> wanderlust
> 
> drabble fantasy!au baekmin; where minhyun leaves behind his kingdom, his responsibilities, and the prophecy to find himself and his real place in the world.
> 
> in his journey he finds all the above, and kang dongho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my beloved nanie, you glitter and are gold

“Will you tell me?” 

Minhyun lowers his sword, flicking his head to shift the strands of his fringe cloying to his forehead. His breathing is heavy, a pleasant soreness trickling through his muscles, clammy under the thin layers of tan linen. He raises his hand to adjust the leather straps that secure the dented buckler to his wrist before he looks over to the source of the voice seated on the collapsed log.

A year ago, the blade in his hand had been a gleaming silver, polished to perfection, sharp as a cold winter breeze; the shield that adorned his arm would have glittered with the imprint of gold feathers of an undying phoenix, resplendent with heraldic runes declaring his royal station and longstanding lineage.

A year ago, Hwang Minhyun had thrown aside the crown and that lineage, and gained what he had today:

a scuffed sword that had spilled blood, not to defend the kingdom he has been raised to rule, but to defend a single life that lived beyond its borders; 

a steel shield battered and bruised as his spirit had once been, sore with longing for the green valleys and blue rivers that flowed beneath the shadows of towering red mountains looming over the castle walls; 

burn scars littering his too-eager palms and wrists which once had been soft and free of blemish (and free of the knowledge of how it felt to caress heated skin tanned by flying too close to the sun, to trace the rhythm of bucking hips and tease through pinches of tiny pink buds while his lips, once versed in only announcing the empty repetitions of platitudes to King and Country, whispered poetry of a single name, a single need, a single desire of the dragonborn who breathed fire into his life and forged it anew).

And he found his love, now sitting with his legs tucked to the side atop a moss-covered throne that Minhyun would pledge his undying fidelity to. In the fading afternoon light filtered between swaying leaves, Dongho is a smoldering beauty, scaled wings behind him capturing all the facets of sunset reflected in amber eyes. Without those wings, perhaps without his abilities of transformation, others might have considered Dongho capable of passing as a full human and be capable of living among them without fear of prejudice. 

Minhyun knew however, the truth.

His dragonborn- the innocent recluse who had defended him as Minhyun was beset by thieves and robbed of all but the inner layers of his royal garb and the sword clutched defiantly in his hand- would never belong among humankind.

Minhyun would never want him to; for why should a precious stone be cast among chaff and dirt? 

“Tell of what, my love?” Minhyun asks, finishing his practice drills for the day. 

He looks to the sky. The night would descend soon and the creatures that awaited darkness deserved their space.

“What the fortuneteller prophesied…” Dongho shifts on the log, his voice soft as he adds, “..what made you leave your home, your people?”

Sheathing his sword, Minhyun offers his freed hand for Dongho to take. The dragonborn does, touch deceptively delicate to those who looked at him and only saw scale and smoke. Dongho stands as he is guided, starting against Minhyun’s chest as their bodies are made to collide.

“Why do you wish to know?”

“I...am just curious. Any one would be to know what their future holds.” Dongho defends himself, grunt softened by a puff of smoke through his nostrils. 

Minhyun holds him tighter, smiling. “What are you afraid of, Dongho?”

“I am curious, not afraid!” But the smoke settling between his lips, Minhyun knew said otherwise.

“Are you scared that I should leave here?”

In his arms, Dongho stiffens. Refuses to look away, even though Minhyun knows he is afraid to hear the answer, and Minhyun’s heart flutters as though they too were restless wings. He carefully seeks a kiss, only to have Dongho lean away. 

“You said you would never have left your life had you not been told.” Dongho lowers his gaze. “It is not an unreasonable thought…”

“It is not, you are right.” Minhyun hums, thinking back to the words of the palace fortuneteller told him on his twentieth birthday.

His parents had been shocked when his only gift request was not fancy clothes, or a new stallion, but _‘so it is wisdom you seek, crown Prince?’._ The oracle had been amused, _‘An unorthodox request when you could have anything in the kingdom_ .’ Minhyun had raised his chin, proud, eyes watering from the heavy incense wafting in the small room,‘ _What I need cannot be found within these borders.’_ He did not know then how to explain his restlessness, his longing for the sky and the forest, when there was so much filling his life here, but the oracle smiled her gap-toothed grin and chuckled knowingly. For his humility, she said, she would give him the gift he desired. 

To Dongho, Minhyun simply smiles, staring down long enough that the dragonborn huffs, complaining he cannot read his thoughts, speak of it. 

“But should I, when you are acting this adorable?” Minhyun teases, swinging Dongho in his arms and receiving more complaints. “The terrible gold dragon of the North, whining at the hands of a mere mortal prince? What would the townspeople say if they saw you now?”

“They would understand why I had burned you to a crisp, I believe.” Dongho mutters, jutting his chin up defiantly. “And you are no longer a prince.”

“Am I not prince of your heart?” Minhyun argues, grinning. 

He receives a shove in response as Dongho pulls away, smoke disappearing from his lips as he stifles a smile. 

“Keep your secrets then, Minhyun.” Dongho huffs, “we should go home before night falls, before you challenge another poor owl just trying to catch his dinner.”

“He swooped at you! I had to defend my princess!”

“Call me that again, and you will have a whole other challenge on your hands!”

As the sun descends and the night falls, Minhyun’s noisy laughter echoes through the quieting forest. 

-

_For as long as you stay in these castle walls, my Prince, is as long as your life’s happiness shall elude you. Look to the great northern mountain, to the great skies, where a treasure shall you find that will grant you lordship over the greatest kingdom of all._

  
  
  
  



	14. lovely day | everybody/Baekho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekho doesn’t have a soulmate.
> 
> He has four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it turned out sfw you are all spared another round of my terrible nsfw ;;
> 
> sorry this is so lacking ):

  
  


“But that’s just it...” Jonghyun’s voice is soft, it’s always so terribly _soft_ when he gets like this that it makes him want to shout back at him to stop- just _stop_ \- 

except he can’t, because hearing that tone makes the spark inside Dongho’s chest flicker and the words on his tongue die. His lips are dumb, motionless; Jonghyun’s however, lift sadly.

“..I’m not special.”

“Jonghyun.” A single name - a word spoken as a warning, a plea.

“It’s ok, I know I’m not your first. It’s fine.” 

“That’s a lie, you’re _lying_.” Dongho levels his glare at the man above him, finding his voice. He’s gone through this twice before but it was never as hard as it is with Jonghyun. 

Aron had been the easiest; just a one-off conversation in the car (‘ _So..’_ The smile he’d offered was warm, the arm stretched around Dongho’s shoulder even warmer. ‘ _Four, huh?’_ Dongho had nodded slowly, wary. ‘ _I guess that makes sense.._ ’ Aron nodded in time with him, pouting in contemplation, ‘ _in a past life I had three thousand wives, so it’s only fair you get multiple this time round._ ’ ‘ _Three thousand?!’_ Dongho had played along, laughing - partially from Aron’s shit-eating grin, mostly from relief as the tension disappeared from his chest as his boyfriend pulled him in closer, thumb against Dongho’s chin like he was coddling one of his shiba inu, _‘Yeah, but you’re prettier than them all, so don’t worry babe._ ’ ‘ _I’m not worried.’_ And he wasn’t, not anymore.) 

  
  


Mingi had been temperamental, complaining constantly that this ‘ _this mark right here, Kang Dongho, means that you’re not allowed to argue with me-’_ waving his slim wrist in Dongho’s face, snarling like the tan tiger-shaped birthmark that surfaced the moment they met. He’d caught the wrist in his grip carefully, pointing out, ‘- _just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean I have to do everything you say, Mingi-ah._ ’ ‘ _It means we’re meant to be together._ ’ Mingi had a point, Dongho would never argue that point, ‘ _and it means to unpack the dishwasher when I tell you._ ’ ‘ _Now you’re just asking too much._ ’ (Though when it came to it, of them all, Mingi asked for the least, and understood the most. The one who ‘kicked’ him out of the apartment if he was spending more time with him than with the others; the one who shouted down the phone for him even when Dongho begged him not to make a fuss, not to say anything but meekly left the room when Mingi told him to, hearing the furious, ‘ _Of course he’s not going to tell you he’s upset, you should_ know _he is, you can’t even make it for his birthday when you promised--’_ and the one who, when the nights were too warm, the days too long and Dongho had little energy for anything else, would animatedly tell him all kinds of stories, fingers in Dongho’s hair and only paused when Dongho craned his neck to kiss the inside of Mingi’s wrist. ‘ _What was that for?’_ Mingi would ask, but he knew, he always knew.)

“You’re not fine.” Dongho sighed, pulling himself away from the body above him and winced between the sheets. 

“Dongho..I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-,” 

“I don’t want to talk right now. Just-- I need a moment.”

Jonghyun, sweet, and gentle, with a deep well of emotion that he hid underneath a calm expression - the same one who flops down onto the mattress beside Dongho - is, as far as he’s concerned, lying.  
  


If it were Minhyun here, Dongho knows that the taller man would be bothering him every five seconds ‘ _what about now, Dongho-yah? Now? How about now? Feel like talking now?_ ’ until Dongho’s patience would break down and he’d smash a kiss against the smirking lips that taunted him from the day they met, and still drove him crazy twelve years later. Still leaves him breathless, heart pounding, heart wrenching, ‘ _You’re annoying._ ’ Dongho would complain to Minhyun’s chest, voice muffled against the hard muscles he’d only been kissing a few moments ago. ‘ _So are you, that’s why we’re soulmates._ ’ Minhyun wouldn’t look away if Dongho looked up, laughing when he’d narrow his eyes.

But if Dongho fixed at him with a long stare, eventually Minhyun’s expression would soften. They didn’t need words - they spoke them plenty about anything else but this, and that was fine. Because even before their matching marks had surfaced on their skin, they didn’t talk about how Minhyun was his first, and he was Minhyun’s only.

Words however, Dongho realised, were necessary for Jonghyun. Jonghyun, who had shyly scrawled his number onto the daily coffee he passed over to him in the early morning over the counter, who stared and _stared_ after their third date when he noticed the small quartet of marks on Dongho’s wrist and rubbed his own arm where a matching mark sat, colour draining from his face. “ _Jonghyun, I know it’s a lot to take in, but they’re my soulmates and I love them..”_ Dongho had whispered, trying to swallow down the fear closing up his throat, “ _but I want to love you too, if you’ll let me._ ”

The air in the room is cool now that there is no body covering his own. Dongho tries not to shiver. His mind is full of words, wondering which one of them is right, which one can breach the gap that he feels stretching out between them both the longer the silence extends. 

Before he can make an attempt to craft a bridge, Jonghyun’s husky voice lays down the first bar. 

“I’m sorry, Dongho.”

“You should be.”

“I am.”

Dongho sighs, turning under the blanket. In the darkness, he can see the profile of Jonghyun’s face, and the single glittering trail plummeting down the angled cheekbone like a dying star. “Then why are you over there?” 

Jonghyun doesn’t look at him. He just breathes in slowly, shallowly, with a small shudder.

“Jonghyun-ah.” 

Gathering him into his arms, Dongho feels those trembles and squeezes him tighter, and gives him the truth that he’ll repeat for as long as he knows Jonghyun needs to hear it _(forever, he knows, and that’s ok, because soulmates means forever)_.

“You’re special to me. Don’t you know?

“But you have-” _the others, what if I’m not-_

“- _we_ have today. Any day I spend with you, it’s the best day I could ask for.”

A soft sniff, a longer sigh. A cautious kiss to Dongho’s wrist.

It isn’t the first time they’ll speak of it and it’s not the first time Dongho’s said these words to a soulmate; but it hasn’t meant any less to him because of it.

“I love you.” 

  
  
  



	15. leading light | Baekmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who out there reckons they'd be last man standing in a survival horror movie? i alr know i'd be a first out tbqh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not much but ily ;;

“I don’t like it here.” Dongho’s voice is low, stooping with withdrawn shoulders as his eyes dart back and forth in the darkness.

His fingers curl tightly around the small hand leading his own, the only source of reassuring warmth in this place.

“It’s just for a night.” The hand squeezes his, “and ghosts aren't real, you know that right?”

Dongho looks up. A few centimetres keeps them apart and a wall of shadow, but he can see his friend’s face just barely. He can make out the smile from his voice more than he can see it, the laughter that Minhyun can’t keep from bursting forth when Dongho lets out a little whine.

“I know they're not.” Dongho doesn’t believe in ghosts.

But if he did, he definitely believed they would live in a place like this. A huge abandoned house, groaning in the wind while rain battered its face as if trying to resuscitate the evil living inside. Outside, their broken down car had given up its’ own ghost. Dongho had wanted to stay inside there, but Minhyun complained it would be too cramped, something Dongho wouldn’t know about since he was ‘so tiny’. Dongho hadn’t liked that comment, and let himself be convinced to try searching for somewhere to rest in here.

“Then what are you scared of?” Minhyun tugs him to keep walking through the hallway.

“Just..don’t leave me alone in here.” Or anywhere, he wants to say.

Minhyun pauses suddenly, whipping around. He can’t help it: Dongho screams, ready to run and collides into Minhyun’s chest. Dongho pushes at him to move – they had to _go god damnit they had to-_

“What what we-!”

“Dongho-yah-!"

“Minhyun we gotta go what the what are you-"

“Dongho! It’s fine, it’s fine stop!” The laughter fades when Dongho is trembling against him. “I was just joking with you-“

“Asshole.” Dongho hits his forehead against Minhyun’s chest, a little satisfied when his friend wheezes in complaint. “I..don’t want to stay here. Can’t we go back to the car?”

“You can then, but I’m staying.”

Dongho groans, hits Minhyun with his forehead again before stepping away. He doesn’t get far – Minhyun pulls him back with their joined hands.

“..what?”

In the darkness, he barely sees Minhyun’s other hand rising. He feels it though, gently smoothing away the mussed locks of his damp fringe away from his face for him. _As if it matters when the ghosts eat us_ , Dongho thinks, but tries to ignore the fluttering in his chest that doesn’t belong to the adrenalin rush from panic before.

A new panic settles in when Minhyun leans in and kisses his now cleared forehead.

“You’re cute, Dongho-yah.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure the ghosts take you first.” Dongho grumbles, for once glad the darkness is around and covering the renewed colour in his face.

Minhyun laughs, the sweet sound clear and unafraid over the rain and storm, and keeps Dongho’s hand tight within his own as he leads the way. “I’m taller, I’ll just outrun you.”

“I’ll trip you.”

“You’d trip over yourself first.” Minhyun points out. “Besides, you’d never leave me, would you?”

It’s the annoying truth Dongho won’t answer. From day one to if this was their last, to meet an end in an abandoned house with the rainstorm from hell trying to tear them apart; no matter how frightened he was, the thought of facing life without his best friend was scarier.

So they walk in the darkness, blind leading the blind, only Dongho lets his light take the lead, and Minhyun keeps his closer, twining their fingers together.


	16. you never even noticed i died, right? | JBaek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont kill me unless its at nintendo in which case game on let's roll

  
  
  


Hobbies were meant to be fun. Challenging, but fun. They were also meant to be relaxing.

This was not relaxing.

“Ahh! They found me-- ah! Wait! No- go that way Jonghyun which one’s throw-- ah damn.” 

Hissing in defeat, Baekho slumps in his padded chair, fingers falling away from the controller now resting in his lap. He looks over to Jonghyun’s hunched form, whose sharp eyes are trained on the TV. It used to be only in the practice rooms and at the studio that he would have seen that level of concentration on his leader’s face; more recently, he’s been able to see it often. Except this is in their private time. There are no cameras, no mirrors, no need for Jonghyun to guard himself and stay calm and professional.

Maybe that’s why-   
  


“Can you come revive me?”   
  


“No! I told you not to go down that way, idiot.”   
  


-Jonghyun snaps at him.

Baekho falls silent; what was the point? He didn’t understand this game - really what _was_ the point of it when there were just people running all around the screen and guns firing and his character wasn’t fast enough and he kept forgetting the controls. But Jonghyun likes this game and Baekho likes seeing Jonghyun when he’s focussed. That’s where he stares when his avatar is bleeding out onscreen; at Jonghyun’s profile bathed in the artificial light, from the shadows of his lashes to the defined cheeks to the clenched jaw, the slight downward hook of his nose, the way his brow furrows when the firing through the speakers jumps in volume and he leans forward slightly, as if by doing so he can see his character - and his opponents - more clearly. 

“Dongho!” 

“Hm?” Baekho jumps out of his reverie. 

Jonghyun doesn’t even look away from the screen.

“You should have respawned by now, come on.”

“Right.” Sure enough, the character is revived and standing, waiting for input.

Baekho picks up the controller, sighing. He shouldn’t have expected any different. “I think this’ll be my last round.”

“Mm.” Jonghyun smirks as he guns down another enemy, eyes darting across the screen, shoulders tense.

It takes less than a minute before Baekho is staring down his fallen avatar again, staring back at Jonghyun’s profile again. This time he leaves the controller on the coffee table and his lap is full of a couch cushion, resting his chin on the soft cotton. 

“Jonghyun-ah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m..gonna go to bed.”

“`kay.”

Baekho lingers in his seat for a few moments, looking, waits. Sighs. Puts the cushion aside and wanders off to Mingi’s old room and lays down on the tiny futon. In the living room he can hear the furious clicking of buttons and the quiet mutters of Jonghyun’s curses and cheers but it all becomes background noise as he closes his eyes.

They open again to the darkness. A heavy weight lies over his shoulders, a familiar warmth lining his back, the backs of his thighs, even breaths nuzzling along the nape of his neck. Baekho shifts, turning and moves away to put some space between them.

“`s wrong, Dongho?” Jonghyun’s voice is heavy with curiosity, not sleep.

“It’s hot.” He keeps the distance maintained. Tenses when the arm on his shoulder moves to trace and rest on the dip of his waist.

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“Here was fine.”

Baekho feels all the warmth around him disappear as Jonghyun rolls over to lie on his back. Silence fills the air, a few breaths in between and the tick of a clock somewhere in the living room. He doesn’t know what the time is, he just knows its twenty fives breaths between Jonghyun moving away to Jonghyun sighing loudly and sitting upright on the blankets.

“Fine.” 

The weight on the futon shifts, the rustle of sheets. Baekho turns over to the other side, able to make out the shadow of Jonghyun’s body as he moves to leave.

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Are…” The words hesitate on Baekho’s lips. It’s enough to make Jonghyun pause for two seconds, and maybe it’s a trick of the dark but Baekho thinks he might have turned towards him. “..you gonna go play?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I’ll come.”

-

The cushion is Baekho’s again, nestled under his neck and temple as he lies on the couch. The crown of his hair is smoothed against the gentle pressure of the outer side of Jonghyun’s thigh. On the screen, Jonghyun’s character is running in 4k brilliance, pitching grenades and shooting everything that moves that doesn’t have green allied text hovering above it. Baekho’s eyelids flutter, growing heavier when nothing but the game breaks the silence looming between them.

“It’s X.” Jonghyun says suddenly. 

“What’s x?”

“To throw a grenade.”

“Ah.” Baekho doesn’t know what to say to the apology. He curls his legs up higher towards his chest, tips of his toes kneading the armrest. 

“That’s what you asked before, right?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Gunfire. Grenades. A fake bugle heralds the safe return of the flag to its destination and Jonghyun’s character strikes a taunting pose at the opponent. But when Baekho glances up, Jonghyun’s not smiling like he usually would be. He knows, because he’s watched him play dozens of hours.

“Why couldn’t you tell me before?” Baekho asks quietly.

“I was busy.”

It comes out as barely a whisper, but Baekho manages it. “You didn’t snap at Minhyun.” 

“Dongho..” A long sigh. A click of plastic against the table as Jonghyun’s controller is placed down. The noise from the speakers warns that damage is being taken, that Jonghyun needs to move away and find cover.

Jonghyun moves; his hand carefully threads through jet black hair, smoothing the damp curls in random directions. Against him, Baekho represses a shiver. 

“That’s different.” Jonghyun says.

_It shouldn’t be_ , Baekho wants to say. He knows it’s different - he’s never seen Jonghyun raise his voice at their bandmate, not in the practice room, not in front of the camera, not even when he was intensely stressed and focussed on his beloved Call of Duty and Minhyun’s character was more useless than Baekho’s.

“Are you upset because I yelled at you?”

_No._

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Dongho, I didn’t mean to get annoyed.” The hand in Baekho’s hair stops moving, pulling the curls back to present a clear canvas for Jonghyun’s lips to press against his forehead. The next words are mouthed against Baekho’s skin. He can’t suppress the shiver this time. “You wanna go to bed?”

_No._

“Yes.”

The tv is turned off, the game ignored. All the sounds of the dorm are muted; Baekho only hears the low murmur from the lips against his own, the rustle of the tiny futon’s blankets.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, baby.” 

“I’m not-- _ah -_ jealous.”

But Jonghyun laughs, because for every moment Baekho has spent staring, memorising his profile, Jonghyun has spent ten times - ten _years_ longer staring at this adorable face, so obvious, too honest. Smirking, he kisses flushed cheeks and is rewarded with a huff, so he says, “I’ll yell at him next time, ok? Will that make you happy?” 

_Yes._

“No.” 

“What’ll make you happy?” 

_You make me happy, Jonghyun-ah._

Baekho sits up just enough to wrap his arms snugly around Jonghyun’s torso, bringing him in for a kiss. It’s only later in the early hours of the morning, the light barely edging at the blinds that Baekho gives Jonghyun a suggestion. He could put up with the games - the video games that is - but Jonghyun’s hobby was too challenging, and definitely not relaxing for Baekho.

“Jonghyun-ah, get a new hobby.” 

“Aw, but teasing you is too fun.”


	17. better together | JBaek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things last forever.
> 
> if only they didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not much, it's never much if i'm being honest and i wish it was more like you deserve. 
> 
> but, it's for you.

_“One day, Jonghyun-ah, I’m gonna leave..”_

He remembers it like it was yesterday; how the sun had rained light onto the dancing ocean waves that lay stretched out in front of them, how it reflected and bounced off faraway amber eyes, how soft Dongho’s voice was in that moment, as if speaking any louder might fracture the peaceful atmosphere that had settled between them the last hour, softer still than the barely-there ‘ _ah’_ that faltered out of Jonghyun’s lips in response.

He remembers the long summer – longest ever, it felt like – spent outdoors while the intense heat baked their lazy smiles permanently onto their faces; they’d been so _young_ back then, Jonghyun thinks, young and stupid and so ready to take on the world. Well, Dongho had been – ready, that is, or as close to being ‘ready’ as someone so young and stupid might be, - and Jonghyun might not have been but he was ready to try, and wasn’t that really just the same damn thing in the end? Because when Dongho said he was going to leave, Jonghyun had realised with an aching heart, that wherever his best friend went, he would go too.

 _“What’s that face for?_ ” Dongho had giggled, nudging him with his shoulder.

Jonghyun pushed back. He hadn’t thought anything on his face had changed after that announcement even if inside, he knew he would never feel the same again.

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You looked like you drank a whole litre of Minhyun’s grapefruit juice.”_

Little was more bitter than this knowledge of the finite, that what they had would end. He almost had said so out loud – _why are we just friends, Dongho-ah, when we could be better..together? why won’t you look at me like you look at him? –_ but instead he had forced a smile.

“ _Like I’d drink that!”_ He scoffed. “ _I have better taste than him.”_

 _What a joke_.

Dongho had laughed then. Smiled that beautiful smile that rendered the crescents of the moon and the light of the sun in perfect harmony on his face; an expression of heaven that still is engraved in Jonghyun’s mind. It’s what he thinks of to gain strength when the days in Seoul are long and hard, when sweat drips down the bridge of his nose as he pushes his body to its limits in another complicated dance routine, when he is alone at night and the sheets are cool against his skin, fluttering like his heart and his hand while the soothing tenor of Dongho’s voice sings through the laptop speakers (and Jonghyun’s perfected it too, timing his shuddering cries before the album’s duets start and he’s more than ever aware he’s alone, and Dongho isn’t).

Jonghyun remembers how infinite the world felt that day sitting at the pier with the dying sunlight gracing the ocean waves and the horizon was so spectacular, its loveliness too distant and untouchable.

Except the horizon was next to him, resting his head on his shoulder, looking up at him with an amber gaze that swallowed every thought Jonghyun had of a future and locked it within that smile.

“ _Are you gonna come with?”_

Sometimes, Jonghyun likes to recall that summer day differently. If he had taken Dongho’s pouting lips and cheeky smile and covered them with his own, only to pull away and see heaven appear again in the face he adored. That the hand he offered was taken not to help Dongho to his feet but into his arms instead, and that the love he still feels wasn’t tinged with the bitterness of regret.

“ _Go where?”_

“ _With me. You will, right?”_

_If only_ , Jonghyun thinks as he applauds for the happy couple bowing on the stage from his front-row seat, the tears on Dongho’s face catching the stage lights and the sunset smile hidden behind a shocked palm now decorated with a new gold ring, _love didn’t last forever._

_“Yeah, Dongho. Always.”_


	18. Play | MinHwan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in my headcanon Ong would be the guy who picks Eddy or Voldo istg i stan a mashing legend

Minhyun isn’t very good at games. It isn’t that he doesn’t like them – on the contrary, he plays around a lot (mobile games are best, because when he gets frustrated he only has to throw a few…….hundred dollars at it to make it easier again, and Jonghyun always complains ‘ _that’s not how you play a game, a real gamer gets through with skill and patience’_ ‘ _well I’m not a_ real _gamer, Jonghyun’_ , and Dongho would chuckle at their fight and point out that Minhyun was keeping the NU’EST spirit alive by cheating even when they were apart. ‘ _you always take his side, he’s gone you can be on my side you know for once’_ Jonghyun’s complaints would shift instead to his boyfriend and through the screen Minhyun and Dongho would share their conspiratorial grins. He misses them, his brothers, he really does.).

He just doesn’t have the kind of focus and patience combined with competitive spirit needed to suceed as a gamer.

Minhyun is fine with that reality. When the others are busy with the onscreen game, Team OngNiel versus Team JaeJin and Daehwi shouting too much encouragement too loudly, Minhyun prefers to sit back and observe the far better view of his own boyfriend’s enthusiasm and concentration. Jaehwan’s cheeks puff out when Ong’s character executes some flash move (‘ _you’re cheating, you said you’ve never played this before!’_ Woojin growls at Seongwu over Jaehwan’s shoulder, ‘ _I’m a master masher, what do you mean?’_ Seongwu looks innocent.) then he’s all laughter when he’s beaten, and he crawls into Minhyun’s lap after the defeat.

“Minhyun-ah,” Jaewhan croons.

“Mm?” Minhyun rests his arms around the other’s sides, hoisting him up more comfortably while the others are all absorbed with the action on the screen.

“I lost.”

“Yeah, you sucked.” Minhyun agrees, kissing Jaewhan’s nose. “I saw it. Seongwu crushed you. It was funny.”

“Yah! You’re meant to be comforting me!” It might have seemed scarier if Jaehwan wasn’t laughing, but he was and Minhyun easily matches.

“This isn’t comforting?” Careful kisses, the kind that were nothing like the playful ones Minhyun gave to anyone in a three-metre radius when he was on camera and to the camera itself, are laid over Jaehwan’s pouting face.

“A little.” Jaehwan melts, but doesn’t let Minhyun off the hook.

Neither does Jinyoung nor Sungwoon, telling the two to get a room.

“We share a room with you.” Minhyun points out to Sungwoon, grinning. “You _really_ want us to get a room?”

Understanding hits Sungwoon’s expression and he starts to shake his head, “No no-,”

“C’mon, Jae. Your hyung said we should get a room.” Minhyun tugs Jaehwan to his feet, cackling when Sungwoon shouts that _isn’t what I meant, don’t use our room I swear Hwang-_

“Okay.” Jaehwan is readily agreeable, moreso when the door closes behind them and a far better game – Minhyun’s favourite, really - is played all night with just the two of them.

And it’s the one game Minhyun never cheats at , never will, never wants to-

but always wins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you, and if this doesn't say it then i don't think i know what else ever would, tbh hahahahaha daisuki~


	19. a hundred years more (I'll love you) | BaekMin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongho wants to show his love for Minhyun for a hundred years.
> 
> Minhyun will love him for eternity.
> 
> (but sometimes Dongho's gift choices are a bit....)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jbaek if you squint ksksksksksksks
> 
> but wow it's been a while since i've baekmin'd...sorry if it's no good and ty for reading ;;

For their first wedding anniversary, Dongho bought Minhyun a yuzu tree.

  
  


"But...I'll kill it..I have no luck with these things." Minhyun shuddered to remember the remains of many plants now passed - a graveyard at his early dorm windowsills of frostbitten marigolds and withered geraniums.

  
  


"It represents our marriage!" Dongho waved away Minhyun's concerns with his bright smile. His eyes narrowed, still playful as he added, "so you'd better take good care of it. Every day."

  
  


"I..I will." Minhyun nodded, grinning tensely as he accepted the pot (and thought maybe it wasn't such a bad gift after all; his favourite fruit tree and his husband had to move the heavy pot all the way to the balcony, a splendid view to add extra inspiration for Minhyun's after-dinner plans).

  
  


For their second anniversary, Dongho bought Minhyun a hundred year aged bottle of cherry wine. Sweet, dark red liquid that blunted both of their memories of that night but not their appetite for each other (as they both found when recovering the next morning- 'Kitten can you..get..the door..someone's knocking' Minhyun had groaned under his palm, headache pounding like the fist trying to summon their attention. It was probably Mingi and Aron wanting to take them out to celebrate. 'I...can't move.' Dongho's mumble prompted Minhyun to open his eyes a crack. 'What'd you mean you can't move?' Worry faded when Minhyun noticed the sweet, dark red that stained Dongho's breath last night was mimicked in his cheeks as he looked the other way. 'You should have been more careful..' Dongho whined, and Minhyun couldn't resist laughing at the man that he'd married, 'that's not what you asked for last night.')

  
  


For their third anniversary, Dongho bought him a book of poetry.

  
  


"Uh..thanks..?" Minhyun blinked at the unfamiliar language lining the brittle pages, fingers careful lest they crumbled them like dry leaves under heavy paws.

  
  


"First edition..look." Dongho pointed out the title.

  
  


"What does it say?"

  
  


"You're the smart one, genius. Look it up." Dongho flicked his arm affectionately, leaving the room.

  
  


(Minhyun didn't look it up - he took a photo, sent it to his hyung to translate for him, and then spent the rest of the day chasing after his husband with obnoxiously loud quotes of broken phrases from his new favourite book _: '100 ways to say I love you'_. 'Minhyun I'm trying to eat!' 'Minhyun, I'm having a shower!' 'God, stop!' He didn't, because why should he when even throughout, Dongho was trying not to smile, and Minhyun was falling in love with him more.)

  
  


For anniversaries three to nine, Dongho gifted Minhyun with many things, each wonderful, each long lasting, treated as preciously by Minhyun as the large yuzu tree proudly growing in their back yard as strong as their marriage.

  
  


At the tenth year, Dongho's gift for him came in a special tank.

  
  


"A..turtle?" Minhyun stared at the serenely swimming contents. The creature inside ignored his attention.

  
  


"Isn't he cute?" Dongho gushed, fingertips smudging the glass as he stroked it. "I read turtles can live for a hundred years.'

  
  


"Dongho, how are we meant to look after this thing for that long."

  
  


"He's got a name-," Dongho said defensively.

  
  


Minhyun resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Great. A name. That meant they were keeping this indefinitely. "What's the name, then."

  
  


"Jonghyunnie. Jrie for short." Dongho looked back at the tank, amber eyes following the calm circles of the turtle's limbs in the bubbling water. "He's cute, right?"

  
  


"I guess." Minhyun shrugged. He leaned forward, resting his chin on Dongho's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. "I already have a pet I have to look after for a hundred years."

  
  


"Oh?"

  
  


"Yeah, sorta promised I would." Minhyun continued to kiss along his husband's jawline, the way Dongho did to his every morning when they woke up (maybe a _little_ less worshipful; Dongho, in Minhyun's opinion, was a bit obsessed, but it was mutually balanced by his own obsession with Dongho's legs).

  
  


"What pet-"

  
  


Minhyun found Dongho's lips, dragging his attention from their new housemate. Kissed them until the first sound Dongho made when they parted was an 'oh' in understanding, then continued until the next 'oh' was in pleasure.

  
  


Only as the months passed, Minhyun wasn't so sure about a lot of things with this recent gift. Dongho had definitely gotten Jonghyun for him - the little turtle was chosen because he was hypoallergenic and, like all the other anniversary gifts, his longevity was meant to represent their love that would last more than a century.

  
  


Minhyun liked animals, really. But he couldn't help but get a little annoyed when - 'Yah, Minhyun stop!'

'Why, kitten? Don't you like it?'

'Not..in front of Jrie.' Minhyun had looked incredulously over at the tank; the turtle was just doing his own thing, unbothered as far as he was concerned. It was just a turtle, and he said as much.

'I know.' Dongho whined, 'but it's still kinda weird. Like, don't you think it's weird? To? Y'know? In front of?'

Minhyun's fingers dug tighter into Dongho's thighs, lifting him up to carry him to the bedroom instead of using the countertop (later it would happen again, and so the couch became off-limits, and the walls and floor of the living room too).

  
  


And he wondered if the gift was really a good idea because Dongho seemed to enjoy it so much more than he did. It was a bit adorable, Minhyun conceded, when Dongho would take Jrie out of his enclosure, how excited he got to celebrate the turtle's birthday, and maybe it was silly of him to feel a little annoyed when he scrolled through the camera feed on his husband's phone after taking a few selcas and noticed there were a lot more of the damn thing than him. The one he married. Wore a ring for. Bought endless gifts for, including that huge tree Minhyun watered every week and admired every day.

  
  


It was petty, Minhyun knew, and definitely silly. It was a turtle, for christ's sake but,

  
  


"Dongho?"

  
  


"Yeah?" Dongho was hunched over the piano, scribbling notes with one hand and splashing small chords out with the other. At the corner table, Jonghyun's tank was bubbling soothingly, the view Dongho would take in to calm and centre himself when the creative flow was too blocked and nothing else would help.

  
  


"How much do you love me?" Minhyun asked, lips muffled against his husband's shoulder.

  
  


"Huh?" Dongho frowned, looking at him with worry. "What're you talking about?"

  
  


"I just want to know." Minhyun replied casually. "So...how much?"

  
  


"A lot, Minyeon-ah, why?"

  
  


"More than strawberries?"

  
  


"Yeah."

  
  


"More than bread?"

  
  


"Hmm..I don't know.." Dongho teased, laughing when Minhyun pouted and he dragged his taller husband onto his lap. It wasn't often Minhyun attempted aegyo, but he knew his husband's weakenesses (and only exploited them when it was needed...most of the time). "Ok, ok yeah. I do."

  
  


Minhyun paused, pretending to look around the room. "Hmm..how about Jonghyun? Do you love me more than him?"

  
  


Laughter shook Minhyun's body, and he laughed along with Dongho.

  
  


"You're an idiot." Dongho said.

  
  


"I am, but you love me."

  
  


"I do."

  
  


"More than Jonghyun?" He pressed, still grinning.

  
  


Dongho stretched to kiss Minhyun on the lips. "Maybe."

  
  


"Maybe?" Minhyun's brows flew up.

  
  


They resettled like birds on a building's edge when suddenly, all the playfulness faded from Dongho's expression and he looked up adoringly into Minhyun's eyes.

  
  


Just like that, Minhyun felt his skin pimple and ripple with bolts of excitement, contentment; only Dongho did that, could do that to him and just with a single look. Ten years from now, even a hundred years, Minhyun knew from the moment Dongho's gaze had met his own and the intense, honest emotion within those amber eyes burned into his heart - he didn't want those eyes looking anywhere else but on him.

  
  


So he put a ring on it, and every year since Dongho gifted him something that reminded him of the promise he'd given after Minhyun confessed his true feelings for his best friend.

  
  


"I love you more than anything, Minhyun. Before, now, and always, I'm gonna love you."

  
  


As they kissed on the piano stool, offkey notes groaning underneath Dongho's back and elbows, Minhyun happily basked in the truth of that promise and the lips which spoke it now hungrily searching for more places on his body to re-brand it onto him.

  
  


If there was a split second

  
  


a tiny

  
  


petty second

  
  


that Minhyun glanced over at the tank victoriously while Dongho was busy nibbling along his jaw

  
  


well

  
  


that was between him and Jonghyun.

  
  


-

  
  


For their eleventh anniversary, Dongho gifts Minhyun an antique watch, more than a century old and still running beautifully.

  
  


Minhyun gifts Dongho a piece of cloth.

  
  


"What's that for?" Dongho blinks, complaining when Minhyun whisks it out of his hands and then drapes it over the turtle tank.

  
  


"Huh?" Even when he doesn't understand, Minhyun's husband still obediently follows his lead and takes his hand, leaning in to accept the kisses and touches that will leave him panting and moaning for more.

  
  


"Mm-minhyun- we can't not-"

  
  


"Why not?" Minhyun grins, pressing his hips down insistently, satisfied when Dongho jerks to look over at the covered tank and realisation hits.

  
  


"Oh." Dongho returns his attention to Minhyun above him.

  
  


"Happy anniversary, Dongho-ah."

  
  


"Mm," Dongho smiles. "Let's have a hundred more, Minhyun-ah."

Minhyun doesn't know if he's capable of making his husband happy for that long because Dongho deserves so much more than he could ever give, but he knows he'll easily love him for a century.

For forever, really.


	20. As if it's the last | (J)BaekMin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's over.
> 
> the world
> 
> and them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. the last chap for this collection. 20. can't believe we've made it this far. for anyone reading this, thank you for taking the time and giving any of my works a go. when i started this ngl i didnt expect anyone to read it outside of like, requesters lol, and i def didnt expect to hit 20 chapt and 20k words orkgoerkgeorrekgeor. im still hiatus and idk what's next but just wanted to say
> 
> to the lurkers, the kudos'ers, the commenters: im still learning and im definitely still lacking, so thank you for coming on this journey with me, and for your kindness and support. 
> 
> and to my friends for whom almost all these chapters are for,
> 
> i love you.

"Dongho-yah, you can't keep doing this."

  
  


"What other way is there?" Dongho snaps, grunting under the effort of the heavy log, pushing it along the rows of smaller logs in a rudimentary railway. "I need your help, c'mere. Please."

  
  


"I'm not going to help." Minhyun raises his chin. Folds his arms as if they'd been useful once during this god-forsaken time and not just flapping around and bothering Dongho whenever he tried, for fuck's sake, to do something that needed to be done.

  
  


Like this.

  
  


"Fine, then don't." Dongho's muscles flex and tense, dripping with sweat under the burning green sun.

Under the blue clouds, the pair are the only two moving specks in a sea of red dirt and flattened, charred plains. "I don't-" Push. "-need-" Shove. "-your-" Roll. "-help."

  
  


The large log tumbles, veers to the left of the railway. Dongho throws a look over his shoulder, only to see Minhyun still staring at him, watching, arms crossed against his chest. Nothing. Dongho curses under his breath, shakes his head and moves to the front of the line to relay the logs. If only he had another pair of useful hands-

  
  


-but he doesn't, and thinking that way isn't what will help either of them survive now.

  
  


He returns to the rear of the large log, starts to push again. The gradual easing of forward motion under the direction of his palms are a relief. Dongho huffs in victory. When this was over, he'd enjoy sitting under their shelter, as threadbare as their tattered clothes.

  
  


"Dongho.."

  
  


He continues to push. Back straining, shoulderblades rippling with motion. He had hadn't always taken care of himself the way he should have before it all ended, but now Dongho's body was pure curves and angles, every muscle carved to its most streamlined form, baked a soft brown under the relentless green rays burning above. Dongho wonders what he would have thought if he could see him now. Would he have liked seeing him this way? Would the lips that travelled over his skin when it was soft and supple and pinked have curved upward with appreciation for the hardened darkness that it is now?

  
  


"Dongho-"

  
  


Immediately, Dongho tenses. His fingers curl into the rings of wood, blunt nails catching splinters and red dirt. The sun that burns through his flimsy shirt is nothing compared to the solid heat pressing onto his back. Around his waist. His thighs.

  
  


"Dongho..please just stop. For a minute." Minhyun's breath travels along the nape of his neck, hot as the summer rains that no longer fell.

  
  


"I'm stopping." He didn't have a choice.

  
  


When the hands at his hips try to turn him around, however, Dongho resists.

  
  


"Face me."

  
  


"I don't want to. If you're gonna be here, at least help me." Dongho's fingertips prickle with pain, droplets of red gathering, falling, dripping into burnt dirt. He glances down at them, the dots that leave marks indistinguishable from the pocks made by fallen sweat nearby.

He shivers again, another hint of wetness gathering over his skin at the back of his neck, foreign, warm, gentle - just like the voice he remembered, only the one that now whispers his name under his ear is nothing like it.

  
  


"Please, this isn't what'd he'd want for us." Minhyun mutters, fingers palming the sharpened curves of Dongho's hips to urge them to spin, turn around.

  
  


"How do you know what he'd want?" The words slip out, softer than he meant. Dongho bites his bottom lip before it can start to tremble. Water is precious now, especially as the days grow hotter.

  
  


"Because he loved you. Like I do."

  
  


Air is precious too. For a moment, Dongho doesn't waste it either.

  
  


"Dongho-yah..please." Minhyun's forehead finds another curve, this time under Dongho's ear, rests there. Skin to skin. Heat gathers.

  
  


The sun glowers brightly.

  
  


Two specks in the red dust stand still.

  
  


Muscles move as one, together. " _Finally.._ ", Minhyun breathes, arms straining with effort as he pushes. Dongho's sweat glistens even when covered by the flimsy shade of piled logs and a taller body. The splinters are still under Dongho's fingernails, catching, dragging tiny scratches against Minhyun's shirt, skin. Painful as the hiss, as the lonely cries that echo across the desolate plains.

  
  


Even when Minhyun has had his fill, asleep under the stars and sticks, Dongho feels it-

  
  


the world is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> until next time~
> 
> come talk to me or req on my ✦[fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


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